The Healer
by eveninganna
Summary: Perenelle has a gift that is killing her. Nico di Angelo has powers that can offset her own. When the two are forced to work together, they find that there may be larger threats at hands, and that one of their greatest challenges will be their relationship. Nico/OC. Ghost Writers Approved!
1. Accommodations

**Author's Note: **This is my new story. Maybe it's a bit ridiculous to start this with everything else, but I am. This actually has plot, and I'm excited to start writing it. It is a Nico/OC, for this really wouldn't work with any character we already know. Although there's a bit of an air of mystery about why Perenelle and Nico are in this situation, it is basically all explained by the end of the chapter. At most till chapter two. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

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><p><em>He would never talk,<em>  
><em>But he was not shy<em>  
><em>She was a street-smart girl,<em>  
><em>But she could not lie<em>  
><em>They were perfect for each other<em>  
><em>Say it now<em>  
><em>'Cause in your heart it's loud<em>

_- Razorblade_, The Strokes

**-o-**

Waking up in a hospital to find her father (who was the god Apollo himself, all joking aside) there to tell her that this "gift" that she'd had since the day she was born was really starting to become a problem, was bad enough. So was the massive migraine that she had from her little performance the night before, the very one that had put her in that scratchy hospital bed. Then, to be told by said father that a twenty-three-year old demigod son of Hades was going to move in with her to help her offset her little gift, made the prior incident seem like nothing. But then, to have said demigod son of Hades insult her goddamn accommodations made her want to stick him, her father, his father, and her stupid gift all into a bag, light it on fire, and just watch it burn.

"Look, I'm just as unhappy about this as you are," Perenelle Adler snapped, hands on her hips, teeth clenched.

"Somehow I doubt that. At least you're used to this shit hole," Nico di Angelo retorted, still standing in the doorway of Perenelle's apartment.

"This is New York City, asshole. I don't know what futuristic utopia you live in, but obviously you've never seen a rent bill for an apartment in this city in your life. You wouldn't believe what I pay for this shoebox," she scoffed.

"Whatever," he said, his hands in his pockets as he walked farther in. "Perhaps you could give me a tour," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Perenelle widened her eyes, and leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees. "Well, over there is the bedroom," she said, pointing, using the tone of voice Nico imagined she would use for speaking to a child (and a slow one, at that). "And over there is the roach-infested kitchen, and this room, yes, the one we're standing in right now, is called the living room."

He stared at her through narrowed eyes

"And by the way, I do expect you to use your creepy powers of death to exterminate the roaches. I believe that may be the only upside to this situation," she said.

"I thought you were all about life, " Nico said, allowing himself a slight smile at the look of disbelief on her face. "Wow, you really didn't think they'd fill me in on what I was dealing with? I'm disappointed."

Perenelle spluttered for a moment, not sure what to say, what to think. Finally she resorted to a simple, "Fuck you," span around, and marched off to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Nico's eyes followed after her as she walked, admiring the spirit in such a small girl; although he'd be lying if he said she wasn't annoying the fuck out of him.

He surveyed the room again, seeing that she'd actually made it quite nice for what it was, and feeling a twinge of remorse for being as much as a dick as he had been. It was small and quaint. In the middle of the room, a few feet from the door, was a couch facing the far wall. In front of the couch was a coffee table, and a chair to the right of the couch. Placed on the far wall, directly in front of the couch was a small table, and sitting on it was a reasonably sized television - nothing spectacular. On either side of the TV were two large windows, both opened, drawing in the humid summertime air. They were draped in thin curtains, which were pushed to the side. The room was bathed in sunlight and the familiar noises of thousands of people constantly walking by.

The walls were mainly covered in shelves, holding films and music and knick knacks and books – more books than Nico could count. He went into the small kitchen, the door to which was on the left hand side of the living room. There was another window on the right side of the kitchen, open as well. The kitchen itself was clean and obviously not used much for any actual cooking. Nico shook his head sadly.

The bathroom was close to the front door, and was so small he could barely believe that it managed to fit in a shower and sink.

But the one thing he noticed, the one thing that really showed something about Perenelle's personality, were the books.

They were everywhere. On all the shelves in the living room, on the table, on the seats, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, on the floor, and on the windowsills. The apartment was practically overflowing with books. The sheer enormity of the amount of books actually make Nico shake his head, overwhelmed.

He plopped down on the couch, gripping the armrest tightly, trying to keep himself from punching something. He was angry because he'd pissed off Perenelle, who although no shrinking violet, was probably a decent enough person. He was mad because he had no idea how he was going to deal with her "gift". He was mad because he had no idea how Apollo or his father expected him to handle it. He was mad because he didn't want to sleep on her couch in this tiny, humid, book-filled, roach-infested apartment. But most importantly, he was mad because his father had given him no choice in the matter, like everything else in his life thus far.

Just thinking about it made him grip the arm rest even tighter, until he could practically hear it straining against his hold.

**-o-**

First off, his dad was a total cockblock. The man needed to learn some common decency.

Then again, the gods were many things, but common and decent were not among them.

Nico had been with a pretty brunette, Jessica - or was it Jennifer? - when he'd suddenly felt an odd tugging sensation, which unfortunately was not Jessica/Jennifer's hand.

Next thing he knew, he was in the Underworld.

"—the fuck?" he muttered, stumbling and turning around to find his father looking at him as if he was something he'd just found in the drain.

"Glad to see that you've become more articulate over the years," Hades said, although there was a certain humor in his eyes that made Nico breathe out in relief. Since the wars he and his father's visits had been briefer, although not entirely uncommon. They were on good terms, and had even bonded a bit over the years, but whenever Hades randomly summoned Nico, it was usually because he was pissed for one reason or another.

"Um, hello," Nico said uncertainly, rocking back on his heels slightly. The Lord of the Dead sat in a chair leisurely, hands folded. His casual attitude was making Nico even more nervous than he would have been if Hades had appeared to be on a murderous rampage.

"Nico," he responded in like. "The nature of this visit must seem odd to you, and I suppose it is. So I won't beat around the bush," the god said. If there was one thing Nico liked about his father, it was that he wasn't one for small talk.

"Okay," Nico said slowly, sitting down hesitantly.

"Earlier today Apollo paid me a visit," Hades continued, "informing me that a daughter of his needed help with a certain gift she had inherited."

"A gift?" Nico pressed.

"Apparently the girl fell a little too close to the tree that is Phoebus Apollo, because she has the ability to heal any living thing," the god said, looking bored and a little offended by the idea. "Supposedly," he continued, his voice lower, "she can even bring someone back from the brink of death."

Nico stared at his father in confusion. If there was a demigod alive who wasn't a child of the Big Three and had a power like that, how had he not heard of her before?

"What - who is she?" he asked.

"Her name is Perenelle Adler. She is nineteen years old, and she is attending college in New York," he responded, appearing to be growing tiresome of the subject.

"How have I not heard of her?" Nico demanded, disbelief plain on his face.

"Well, you didn't go much to that camp anyway, and according to Apollo the only ones aware of her power are the rest of the gods, and the girl's mother. They went to great lengths to keep it under wraps."

"What - what does any of this have to do with me?" Nico said, not sure how he felt about the idea of anyone being able to bring people back from the brink of death, the only thing he really understood. "And why does she need help?"

"Whenever she heals someone or something, which she's been doing since she understood her power, she weakens herself considerably, and it's permanent. Just the other night she tried to help an absolute stranger, and ended up in a hospital after having been found unconscious on the sidewalk. Apollo believes that the power is a liablity, so he's decided that she need never do it again." Hades sighed, as if this whole retelling was painful for him. "But apparently, she uses her power as if it were a reflex, so he believes that she will need to be trained not to use it. And that is where you come in."

"He wants me to train her not to use her power," Nico stated more than asked, incredulous.

"More or less," Hades said, nodding.

"What - I don't know how to do that – I - I," Nico spluttered, for once at a loss for words.

"I'm sure you'll manage," Hades said. "You're not completely useless." Hades ignored his son's glare. "Really, it's all quite simple: your powers are the exact opposite of hers. All you have to do is use your own - which are undoubtedly more powerful - to bury hers in the deepest recesses of her mind, where she can never hope to find them again." Hades explained all of this in the tone one might use when reading a grocery list.

"Why did you tell Apollo I'd do this?" Nico demanded, starting to get angry.

The Lord of the Underworld narrowed his dark eyes. "If you don't remember exactly, I do owe the child god. You wouldn't believe how much he bothers me about what I did to that silly Oracle all those years ago. And they tell me I hold grudges?" Hades rolled his eyes. "Anyway, this is a way of settling the score. The last thing I need is Apollo nagging at me for all of eternity."

"So you just offered me up?" Nico demanded.

"Well, I wouldn't say I volunteered you for the job. He asked and I said that you'd be happy to do it," Hades responded, his tone clearly saying that Nico would be wise not to question him.

The demigod took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Jessica/Jennifer had been so much more fun than this.

"When do I have to start this job?" Nico asked through gritted teeth.

"Now," Hades said. "Oh, and did I mention that Apollo has insisted upon you moving in with her?"

**-o-**

If Perenelle had been aware of how angry Nico di Angelo was at his own father, they probably would've bonded much more easily.

But mind-reading was not an ability she possessed, although it would be preferable to her own, in her opinion.

All she could really think, though, was how dare her father put her in this situation so suddenly. She'd only been trying to help the old man. He'd been wheezing and coughing on the sidewalk, with no one else around, so she did what she'd always done. She did what came naturally…

She shook her head, clearing herself of the thought.

And then, on top of that, to announce that another person was going to be moving in with her? She'd been so stunned, she hadn't been able to respond. Usually, she would've told her father to fuck off, quite bluntly, in fact. Unfortunately, her sharp tongue had failed her at the time.

And even worse than it all, the person she was supposed to be living with was Nico di Angelo. Of course she'd heard of him; every demigod knew who he was. But it wasn't like she'd ever planned on meeting him - not that she'd ever had the chance. He'd never shown up at camp much anyway, and when he did he didn't tend to socialize.

But Perenelle knew that there was no getting out of this. At least not yet. She was rational. She knew that she would be putting up with the son of Hades for a while.

So, she might as well tell him the rules.

**-o-**

By the time Perenelle emerged from her room, the sun had set. The living room was much darker now, only illuminated by a small lamp in the corner.

She was now wearing thin, cotton, light blue pajama pants, and a loose white tank top. She was wearing black-rimmed glasses which made her large blue eyes seem even larger. Her feet were bare and her dark blond hair tumbled loose around her shoulder, falling to just below her breast.

"Hello? Frankenstein? Ghost King? Do you respond to anything?" Perenelle was demanding, hands on her hips - her default stance, apparently.

"What?" he said, irritated.

"I said, I have some guidlines for your living here," she said.

"Guidelines?"

"Guidelines," Perenelle repeated, nodding.

"Okay?"

"Lovely," Perenelle said. "Firstly, that duffle bag of death over there," she went on, pointing to the one piece of luggage that Nico had brought with him. "Yeah, that. It stays in that corner, where you have it. I don't want your creepy tarot cards or whatever the fuck all around my apartment."

Perenelle ignored Nico's stare of disbelief.

"Secondly, I don't cook, as is probably apparent. I do, however, order in or go out to eat. Feel free to do what you want in there." Perenelle brought her finger to her chin, pondering.

"I think I can guess," Nico interrupted, "Don't touch any of your books unless I plan on treating them as if they were explosive materials. I sleep on the couch. And I—"

He was suddenly cut off by a sort of loud banging noise, and some voices. He was confused for a second, until he looked at Perenelle, to see that she had her head in her hands and was muttering, "Oh, gods, not now."

"What—" he started, until he realized that the sound wasn't coming from inside the apartment, or from on the street. It was coming from the apartment next door, the one that shared a wall with Perenelle, and it was the unmistakable sound of two people—

"The walls are paper thin," Perenelle said, her cheeks a deep red, her head still half-buried in her hands, as she tried to speak over the moaning from the other apartment. "I can hear everything they ever do," she said, mournfully.

Nico didn't believe any situation could be more awkward than the one he was in right now. He and the girl with the healing powers that were ironically killing her, standing in her living room, listening to the couple next door having sex.

"Does this happen often?" he asked, hoping he wasn't blushing as much as she was.

Perenelle shrugged, wincing as the moaning and banging got louder. "It never lasts for long,"

Perenelle erupted into laughter immediately after saying that, and Nico couldn't help but laugh too, despite the awkwardness of the situation only seconds prior. He liked her laugh. It wasn't like a lot of the girls he knew, who always kept it so restrained, and only to a giggle. Perenelle laughed genuinely, and he could tell that she was also the very rare type of person who only laughed when they actually thought something was funny.

It turned out she was right, for the noise stopped just two minutes after it'd begun. Still standing, he leaned slightly against the back of the couch, watching Perenelle wipe tears from her eyes, still smiling.

"Well," she said, giggling a bit still, "I think you, um, basically get the point, and I'm tired so I don't have time to lecture you on the rules of ettiquette in the House of Adler," she said, nodding slightly, seeming to feel a bit uncomfortable again. "So, I guess we'll just talk tomorrow about… everything."

"Yeah," Nico agreed.

Perenelle nodded again, and reached for a book that was sitting on a small table next to the couch. When it slipped from her grasp, it fell to the ground with a thump. Before she could even kneel down to pick it up, Nico had taken one long stride over, grabbed it from the floor, and held it out to her.

The minute he did so, though, he was alarmed by how close they had gotten, having to hold the book to his side so as not to actually push it into her hands. Perenelle gave a nervous laugh, stepped back, and held out her hand for the book. He handed it to her quickly, and she nodded, a tight smile on her face.

"Well," she said. "Goodnight, I guess." And with that, she disappeared into her room.

It was then that Nico decided that this was bound to be even more complicated than he'd originally thought.

* * *

><p><strong>Review, please.<strong>


	2. Déjà Vécu

**Author's Note:**The reviews were generally favorable for the first chapter, but honest, which I like. The one thing most of you said was that the attraction seemed too quick, which I'd agree with... _if _I didn't know what was happening next. So I suppose that's fair, but you'll see what I mean by the end of this chapter. More like the first sentence, actually. Cue absolute loathing. By the way, the plot other than the love interest really begins here, and the story is set _after _The Lost Hero. So let's say that the whole doors of death thing and giants and all that is resolved, because in order for my story to work, all of that really comes into it. You'll see what I mean. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

* * *

><p><strong>- Déjà Vécu -<strong>

The sense of having seen something before.

**-o-**

Nico couldn't believe that he'd liked her for a second.

For a girl with such a high IQ, Perenelle sure was dense. The fact that the night had turned around, and that things had actually been looking up, seemed so ridiculous to him now.

Perenelle was definitely smart, but she was lacking a few other key personality traits. Such as: controlling her temper (Nico was sure that one of her outrages could even make Godzilla cower in fear), not believing that she was invincible, and having the common sense to acquire a goddamn air conditioner in the middle of summer in New York City.

He'd been in the kitchen at around ten in the morning, his head in the freezer, when Perenelle had woken up. She'd tromped into the kitchen, wearing the same clothes from the night before, her dark blond hair in a tangled mess. She'd stared at Nico curiously for a second, then promptly ducked below him, opened the fridge, and grabbed a can of coke.

She popped the lid open and leaned back against the counter, eyeing him still, seeming amused. He peered at her from under the freezer door. She looked fairly horrible in the morning, but that was way down on his list of concerns when it came to Perenelle Adler.

"Why don't you have an air conditioner?" he said finally, taking his head out of the freezer, but continuing to lean against the fridge in an attempt to not have a heatstroke.

She shrugged, apparently not awake enough for a snarky remark. "I can't afford one. And my mother and Angie are greedy bitches." She nodded.

"Who's Angie?"

"My best friend."

"Great," he sighed. "Look, I'm not exactly sure how this whole training you thing is going to work, but I'm pretty sure it will entail draining a lot of my dark magical energy, or whatever it is you called it last night."

Perenelle waited.

"So," he continued, "I'm not sure it's the wisest idea for us to start training until this unyielding humidity is taken care of."

She laughed without humor, but didn't say anything. They both stood there for a few tense seconds.

"I'll talk to Apollo," she said finally.

"Great," he said again.

After a few minutes of awkward lingering, Perenelle spoke again. "You know, considering how protective my father is of me - which, by the way, is only because of my power, otherwise he wouldn't give a shit - you'd think he'd keep a closer eye on me."

"What do you mean?" Nico asked, looking through the measly contents of her fridge, only half paying attention.

"Well, he always freaks out whenever I use my power, but if he even extended a little of that all-knowing godliness towards me, he'd totally be able to prevent it." Perenelle took another sip of her drink. "And then of course there's the fact that I'll probably end up dying from a heatstroke, as you seem to agree with, and he could probably make an air conditioner appear with the wiggle of a toe. Plus there are those weird-ass prophecy death threat things I keep on Olympus has a very sick sense of humor." She shook her head.

"Wait - what?" Nico said, looking over the door of the fridge. "Prophecy death thre— what?"

"Well, I suppose they could be poetry, but I don't know. When the first one came I immediately thought, hey, that looks like one of those prophecy things, but I don't know much about that."

"Perenelle, what the fuck are you talking about?" Nico demanded, all of his attention on her now.

"Don't call me that," she said.

"What?"

"Perenelle. Don't call me Perenelle. Everyone calls me Perry," she said, her arms crossed.

"Perry," Nico said. "What are you talking about?"

"Nico, why are you freaking out?"

"Because you're getting death threats in the form of love notes!" Nico said, his voice getting louder. "Could you maybe, oh, I don't know, explain this to me?"

Perenelle sighed in frustration. "About a month ago I was reading a book and suddenly the words on the page rearranged themselves and it was like a prophecy. It rhymed every other line and all that shit." She was gripping her can of soda so hard, it was starting to crush in on itself. "And it was all like, watch your back, girl who heals, creepy shit like that." She shrugged.

Nico sputtered in disbelief. "You got a magical death threat in the form of a rhyming prophecy and you're shrugging?!"

"It's no big deal!" Perenelle said, her voice rising as well. "It's probably just someone on Olympus fucking with me. Those minor gods love screwing with the weirdo daughter of Apollo." She rolled her eyes.

Nico pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to freak out completely.

"Look, if someone is going through enough trouble to magically tell you to watch your back, that seems like a big deal to me," he said.

"You know, I don't really care what it seems like to you, Nico," Perenelle said, coming off the counter completely, bringing herself to her full height. "And I certainly don't need you coming in here and telling me how to live my life! It's weird enough as it is, and the last person I need advice from is someone who specializes in weird and creepy and that whole goddamn lot!"

"Maybe if you ever took advice from other people, Perenelle, you wouldn't be in the situation you're in," Nico said, not as loudly as she had, but definitely loud enough.

She stared at him, apparently at a loss for words, opening her mouth and closing it, which made Nico happier than words could describe.

Finally, after glaring at him with such determination that Nico was sure she was attempting to make him spontaneously combust, she said, "I have to go to work." Then she tromped out of the kitchen, can of soda still in her hand, and he heard her bedroom door slam.

Nico winced, leaning against the fridge again, running a hand through his black hair.

Even if Perenelle had royally pissed him off for about the hundredth time since he'd met her twenty-four hours prior, he was still worried. He didn't know why, he just knew that he was, even if it was just because now he'd been sucked into all of Perenelle's crap.

So, he did what he's done since he was twelve, when he decided he wanted to know who his mother was.

He decided to get to the bottom of it.

**-o-**

Perenelle angrily pulled on a worn pair of jeans and a simple grey t-shirt. Ripping a brush through her hair, she examined her face in her vanity, and scowled. The bags under her eyes were huge, the lines deep, her skin was blotchy and red, and her teeth weren't nearly as straight as she'd like. She did what she could with a bit of make-up, but never being one to try to draw much attention to her face, she focussed completely on her skin, keeping her lips and eyes clear.

She proceeded to grab her bag, throw a couple books into it, along with her wallet and such, and stormed out of the apartment, ignoring a long, lean, shirtless, and lounging Nico.

Perenelle Adler worked at a bookstore; nothing along the lines of Barnes and Noble or Borders, though. It was an overpiled, dusty, gigantic, unorganized bookstore called The Strand. There she worked with her best friend Angelica, better known as Angie, and another friend, Karey. She loved her job there. During the summer, she worked there often - even though the paycheck was slight - and during the school year, she worked there when she could.

She walked to the Subway on the corner of her block, smiling at a few people she knew as she walked by, the sweltering streets of New York full as always. She was at The Strand in under ten minutes, fanning herself to try to get some relief from the humidity.

When she walked into the store, Karey and Angelica were already sitting behind the counter, chatting and laughing quietly. The large, crowded room was devoid of customers.

"Hey, Perry," Angelica and Karey said in unison, turning around in their swivel chairs. Perenelle had never understood why a store with such an unorthodox and small costumer base had so many employees (although, she did know that Angelica should have been shelving books and Karey probably shouldn't have been working there in the first place). Nevertheless, Perenelle was glad they were there.

"Hey," she said, coming to sit by them. They spoke for a while about films and the homeless man who called himself God that stood perpetually on a corner about a block away. Suddenly a costumer walked in, causing them all to instantly turn and check out the potential buyer. It was a woman, and she was beautiful. Looking to be in her mid-twenties at the latest, she had a Mediterranean complexion and thick, dark hair. Her eyes were large and dark, her face devoid of all flaws, and she had strong, high cheekbones. She wore a simple yet very pretty white summer dress. She was tall and thin, and Perenelle absently thought that she fit all the criteria of a supermodel. The only item on her was a small black bag.

"Hello," she said to the girls, smiling kindly, and then continued to browse through the store. She had an accent, lilting and lovely, but Perenelle couldn't quite place it.

"Okay, so she's obviously foreign," Karey began, leaning into the other two girls and speaking in hushed tones.

"And obviously a model," Angelica added.

"What do you think that accent was?" Perenelle asked quietly, staring after the woman. She had an odd feeling, a feeling like she should know something about this, about her.

"Maybe Italian?" Angelica suggested. "Or Spanish?"

"No, it wasn't either of those," Karey said. "Something more... obscure."

"Obscure..." Perenelle mused, not taking her eyes off the beautiful woman scanning the shelves.

"Maybe she's faking it!" Karey whispered loudly, earning a disbelieving look from Angie and Perenelle. "You know, models do that. Sometimes."

"Why do you think she's _here_?" Perenelle asked.

"Are you calling The Strand lame?" demanded Angelica.

"No," Perenelle said. "Just... for people like her. For people like us it's cooler than iHop at midnight."

"What."

"You guys have seriously never been to an iHop at midnight?" Perenelle demanded, leaning back to look at them. They continued to stare at her as if she were some sort of scientific phenomenon. "It's - it's the coolest thing ever. You will not believe the people who are there at midnight. You've got drag queens, black guitarists, the Italian mob, and Spanish gangsters, all in one place, and everyone gets along. It's incredible. Plus, everyone ends up sitting together, even though no one actually knows anyone out of their own groups. It's like a big rainbow love-fest! I swear, it could be an ad for world peace." Perenelle nodded, smiling now. "Oh, and the food is incredible at that time. I don't know what they're doing differently at midnight, but whatever it is, it's good." She leaned back then, ignoring the bemused looks on her friend's faces.

Just then, the woman walked up to the counter, smiling at them, holding one book in her hand. "I'd like to buy this, please," she said.

"Of course," Karey said sweetly, taking the book from her and hopping over to the register. Perenelle and Angelica stayed seated, smiling lightly and looking at the beautiful woman some more.

"Witches, Midwives and Nurses: A History of Women Healers," Karey said, reading the title of the novel aloud.

"Yes," the woman said, smiling and exposing perfect white teeth. "I have some research I need to do."

"Funny," Karey said, getting the voice that Perenelle knew as being the one she acquired right before saying something really innappropriate. "You know, I read this my freshman year of college, and when I lost my virginity on the couch in my dorm room, it was sitting on the table right next to me." Angelica put her head in her hands and Perenelle groaned, looking at Karey with an I cannot believe you just said that, you fucktard, expression.

The woman, though, seemed unfazed, still smiling lightly. "Fascinating," she said, her lilting accent practically intoxicating.

And it was in that moment that Perenelle realized.

The woman had been looking at her the entire time. Just at Perenelle. But with Karey's announcement about the loss of her virginity, and Angelica being too ashamed to open her eyes, no one else seemed to notice. But the woman kept her eyes right on Perenelle.

And it wasn't just the fact that she was unfalteringly staring at her that creeped her out. It was practically like she was studying her, as if she were a blueprint. When Perenelle met the woman's dark eyes with her own blue ones, the gorgeous woman broke her gaze.

The woman continued on to hand Karey the exact amount of money that the book cost, thank them, and practically float out of the room.

As Angelica began to scold Karey for her lack of class, Perenelle couldn't help but drown out their spat as she watched the woman disappear, unable to shake the feeling that she'd seen her somewhere before.

**-o-**

"What do you know about death threats in the form of prophecies?"

Demeter gave him a look of distaste, but for once, she gave a straight answer.

"Well," she said, "I know that a few centuries ago, I believe it was during the Renaissance, Ares was angry with Apollo because he was getting all the glory. You know, with all the art and such being produced at the time. So he began sending inappropriate messages in the form of prophecies, to one of Apollo's lovers, which caused the poor girl to believe it was Apollo doing this. It was quite a big deal for a while." She glances back at Nico. "Why, have you gotten one?" she asked, hopeful.

"Hm," Nico said, ignoring the last bit. He'd supposed that the best person to ask about what Perenelle was dealing with was a god, so he'd travelled down to the Underworld, planning on asking his father, who was unfortunately busy. Persephone wasn't even a question, but luckily for Nico, Demeter had been visiting that day. She definitely didn't like Nico, but she had at least been known to act civilly towards him. "Do you know," he continued, "if Ares is mad at Apollo right now?"

"I don't believe so," she said, shaking her head. "The only people Ares is mad at right now are Hephaestus and the world peace activists that have been protesting in Central Park all week." The goddess smiled at this. "Oddly enough, I can't name anyone who's really angry with Phoebus Apollo at the moment."

"Huh," Nico said. Unfortunately this information, albeit interesting, didn't help his problem.

"Why do you ask?" Lady Demeter prompted, managing to keep any tone of actual interest out of her voice.

"Oh, no reason," Nico said, standing up. "I just wanted to add it to my diary of weird things I know about mythical beings."

"Of course," Demeter remarked, and Nico took that as his cue to leave.

He walked down the halls of the palace, meaning to ask some servants what they knew or to see if his father was still otherwise involved, when he was stopped by her

"Lady Persephone," Nico said, startled.

She smiled without kindness, contempt clear on her beautiful face. "Nico," she said, surprising him with her use of his first name. "I'm about to tell you this because I figure it will keep you very busy in the mortal world and, therefore, out of my hair. My friend Apollo has had many enemies over the centuries. Very famous enemies, might I add. Some much more obvious than others. Many of which are still quite angry with him, and may have motives that are rather odd indeed. I'd keep that in mind, if I were you." And with that cryptic piece of advice, she was gone, leaving him in the long, dark hall all by himself.

Nico had no idea what any of that meant, but he did know one thing: there was no way he was mentioning any of it to the short-tempered Perenelle until he did know.

**-o-**

When Nico arrived back in Perenelle's apartment, there was an air conditioner in the window. He also gained some satisfaction from how high Perenelle jumped when he simply walked out of the dark corner of her living room.

"—asshole!" she exclaimed at the end of a long line of expletives. "Next thing I'm asking Daddy Dearest for is Son of Hades Repellant." His glare matched her own.

"You know, I'd hate you if your comebacks weren't clever," he said, and she smiled smugly.

"I thought so," she responded. "I bet most people call you stuff like 'Zombie', and 'Frankenstein'. I, on the other hand, am original."

"And modest," he said, walking into the kitchen to get some water. He came back into the living room then, eyeing her on the couch. She sat there, typing on her laptop, ignoring him. He spotted a small plant on the windowsill near him, nothing special, one that could be easily replaced. He brought his hand near it and cleared his throat.

"What," Perenelle said, looking up then to see what he was doing. She watched with absolute horror written on her face while he touched one of the leaves of the plant, closed his eyes, channeling his energy, and the plant wilted, darkened, wrinkled, and died.

Perenelle closed her laptop, pushed it off of her lap and onto the couch, ran toward where he was, and pushed him out of the way with surprising strength. Nico stepped back against the wall, watching her.

"You creepy bastard," she muttered, and placed her hand on the dead plant, just as Nico had, channelling her own energy into the plant. Unlike Nico, a bit of mist appeared when she performed her power, like fog. He watched with rapt interest as the plant did the reverse of what Nico had caused, like rewinding a clock. The color came back, the leaves bacame smooth, and it stood erect again. Perenelle opened her eyes, and they looked tired.

"Woah," Nico said lowly. And it was in that moment that he realized Apollo's decision to get him to train Perenelle had actually been clever, not rash and foolish. They were exact opposites. They could rewind the clock of each other's gifts with a touch of their hands. They were more powerful than the gods would ever want a demigod to be. And the most amazing part was that although it was expected from Nico, Perenelle was a phenomenon. She wasn't a child of the Big Three, her mother had no special powers other than the sight, and she had never been blessed. She had to have been a genetic malfunction of some sort. Too much godly blood.

Nico couldn't decide which was more dangerous: the ability to kill with a touch, or to heal with one

"Mmhm," Perenelle agreed tirely, slumping slightly on the spot she was standing.

"I knew it," Nico said.

"What?"

"I knew you couldn't resist."

"Resist what?"

"You couldn't resist healing it," he said, leaning back against the wall by the kitchen, a smug look on his face. Perenelle stared at him, at a loss for words.

"I can so," she said finally, her voice petulant.

"Which is why you sprinted from the couch to bring a plant back to life?" he countered.

"I - I don't care about the life of that plant," she said, startling him with the utter assurance of what she was saying.

"Perhaps," he allowed finally. "But it's your impulse to heal, isn't it? It's not even you that makes the decision. It's the… gift."

She looked at him then, and he could see the agreement in her eyes. He knew that she'd known this for a while. But just like with the death threats, she didn't worry about it. She was too tough, too self-reliant. So much so that she ignored something that could potentially kill her.

"You need my help," he continued, "and you know it."

She swallowed, and he almost felt bad, but he pushed the remorse out of his mind. He knew that this was what she needed. A reality check.

She nodded slightly, and walked off to her room, closing the door lightly behind her. Nico nodded to himself, feeling sure that tomorrow, progress would be made.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, I hope that chapter wasn't boring. It's really set up the entire plot, so the following chapters will be full of action and all that jazz. Review.<strong>


	3. The Food Will Wait

**Author's Note: **I didn't get as many reviews as I would have liked, but the ones I got were helpful, and I'm hoping they'll increase. Remember: This fic takes place AFTER _The Heroes of Olympus _series, and the idea should be that all the main problems were resolved. Keep that in mind when reading this story. Anyways, this chapter you'll have a lot of flashbacks that will explain the Nico I've created in this story, as well as some of Perenelle's backround. (Also, if you don't already read my Author Note's I would get in the habit of doing it if I were you, because they tend to be pretty informative.) Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

* * *

><p><em>"I've only been in love with a beer bottle and a mirror."<em>

- Sid Vicious

**-o-**

_He was sixteen years old, standing on the top of his father's palace in the Underworld. He'd only earlier discovered that there actually was wind in The Land of the Dead, although from where it came, he did not know. Perhaps it came from the screams of tortured souls, or, on a happier thought, from the pleasant breezes in Elysium and the Isles. Nevertheless, it was a windy day in the Underworld._

_He wore jeans and a t-shirt. His shaggy dark hair whipped around his face, the wind whistling in his ears. He walked closer to the edge of the roof of the palace, overlooking the Fields, the gates of Elysium, the pit that led to Tartarus, and so on._

_Nico didn't consciously realize why he came up here, but his mind was telling his legs to keep walking, closer and closer to the edge of the roof. Soon he was there, right on the edge, his feet only half on the roof, but he's balanced, not in danger of immediately falling. The wind became even harder, crashing against his back._

_He closed his eyes, loving the feeling, and edged his feet even farther off of the roof. He extended his arms out slightly, the wind rushing against them as well. He suddenly felt as if he's beginning to tilt forward, and the feeling is exhilarating—_

_He was tugged backwards suddenly by a hand gripping the back of his shirt tightly. He stumbled, finally steadying himself closer to the middle of the roof, and his father, standing in front of him now, released his hold roughly._

_Hades was dressed in a crisp, black suit, having earlier had to go to Olympus to discuss the matter of souls having escaped from the Underworld. Nico didn't know why, he'd been under the impression that the matter had been resolved, but any thoughts on that went out the window when he saw his father's face. He was livid, yet there was something else there too, something that looks like concern, that had a certain tenderness._

_" What were you just doing?" Hades demanded, and even though Nico knew he should be answering his father's question, all he could do was think about how much he looks like his father. Bianca had looked like Maria. He looked like Hades._

_"Nico!" Hades barked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked at his father, opened his mouth and closed it. Hades urged him with his hands to say something, but he still didn't know. He didn't know what to say, how to answer him. Because he himself didn't know the answer yet._

_"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Hades demanded, voice rising. "Do you want to end up with Bianca and Maria now? Why would you—?"_

_"No," Nico said, his voice shaking a bit. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest thing to do, interrupt a god, even if he is his father. But he knows why now. His father's words had brought the answer. "No, I - I don't want to die."_

_The Lord of the Dead waited._

_"I just want to feel alive."_

**-o-**

Perenelle crept out of her living room window and onto the fire escape that connected to it, careful not to wake Nico, who lay asleep on the couch.

She crouched on the rusted metal bars, breathing in the night air, a smell she had always loved. She sighed then, listening to the sounds of New Yorkers laughing and yelling and talking, coming home or going out in the dead of night. The noises, as well as the illumination from the streetlights and twenty-four hour businesses, were oddly comforting.

She held a paperback novel in one hand, a light read she had been enjoying immensely. Relaxing against the brick wall of her building, she put her legs out in front of her, her toes poking through the wrought-iron bars on the far side of the fire escape, and began reading from where she'd left off.

Perenelle's one escape had always been reading. She found that if she could escape to another world, one that wasn't full of demigods she never could quite relate to, or gods that were as reckless as they were powerful, or her mother's and her friends' own brands of crazy, she could actually relax.

When the thought of her mother crossed her mind, Perenelle's features darkened slightly. Perenelle's mother had always loved her, and she still did. She and her mother actually got along at times, too. They'd laugh and giggle and watch films together and talk about boys. But Perenelle and her mother had never had the kind of relationship that could be counted as a mother/daughter dynamic. They were more like sisters.

Perenelle's mother had given birth to Perenelle when she was nineteen, Perenelle's age then, and she had developed into an alcoholic as Perenelle got older. Her mother's slurring and fits of rage had always disgusted Perenelle, as much as they had saddened her. But aside from the massive dissapointment, there was anger. And that anger had stuck with her all these years, resulting in a temper that she struggled to control.

As she read her book, she simultaneously contemplated this, wondering if her having been the parent in her relationship with her mother had resulted in the fact that Perenelle needed solitude. She loved books, and she loved being alone.

Perhaps, she thought, she should cut her mother more slack. She could see through the Mist, and being left with a demigod daughter had to be difficult. Especially a demigod daughter with an odd and difficult "gift". But still, her strained relationship with her mother, and her Daddy Issues, had left her untrusting, and with the firm belief that she herself would never truly be able to love or care about another person more than herself.

Granted, she loved Angelica and Karey. She'd known them since she was thirteen, and they had all been inseparable ever since. They loved the same books and films and music, and they had the same sense of humor. However, they knew nothing of Perenelle being part god or her power or anything of the whole crazy mythical deal, so Perenelle felt like she was always holding back.

She went on to think about how perhaps she should be nicer to Nico, for it wasn't like he'd had much choice in the matter of moving in with her, either. Maybe she could explain to him that her offense in sharing her apartment with him wasn't personal - she just didn't like living with other people. After all, when she'd started going to college at Columbia she'd had a roommate in her dorm, whom she couldn't stand, and had moved out a week later. There were only so many dorm parties that Perenelle could deal with. Maybe they could bond over horror stories with their fathers, or she could tell him about the woman at the book store earlier, the one she felt like she should remember—

"Couldn't sleep?" Nico was at the window, his torso out, hands on the windowsill, and Perenelle jumped. She settled herself against the wall again, and Nico climbed out, leaning against the bars that were on the far side of the escape.

"Y-yeah," she said shakily. She almost told him to be careful against the bars, because they were rusted through, and if one of them were to break or give out he would fall backwards against the street, but she stopped herself. He was a demigod child of the Big Three, for shit's sake. He could take care of himself.

He nodded, and she realized suddenly that he was only wearing jeans. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him without a shirt on already; he walked around her apartment like he owned the place, only wearing jeans or boxers. She never said anything, because it wasn't like it was a bad sight. But now, for some reason, perhaps it was the fact of how close to her he was, or how he was sprawled out on the fire escape, she felt awkward in his presence. And that made her feel silly.

She squirmed a bit, and Nico seemed to notice that she was uncomfortable with the situation. He seemed to want to ease the awkwardness in some way, but didn't know how. Finally he settled on saying, "Neither could I."

She shook her head, closing her book and setting it down gently on her lap.

"Bad dreams?" she asked.

"I guess."

"Me too," she said, nodding slightly.

"What's with your name?" he said suddenly, his dark eyes catching her blue ones.

"What?" Her voice came off harsher than she'd meant it to, but she chalked that up to being caught off-guard.

"Your name. I've never met of anyone, or heard of anyone, named Perenelle," he shook his head, the corner of his lips turning up slightly. "So, did your mother make it up, or…?" He trailed off.

"Oh," she said, feeling stupid. She adjusted her book before speaking, and wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them up to her chest. "My mother named me after this French woman, Perenelle Flamel, who lived during the fourteen-hundreds." She shrugged slightly. "She was married to this famous Alchemist, Nicholas Flamel. One day, they just up and disappeared together, and no one heard back from them for ten years. But when they came back to France, they were insanely rich. People believe that he actually discovered the secret to Alchemy, or something like that, but no one really knows." She looked up at Nico, scared she was boring him, as she usually did when she talked about history with people - which she loved - but he actually seemed remotely interested, so she went on. "But the reason my mother loves Perenelle Flamel so much is because instead of taking that money and just buying themselves a fucking palace and a million and one other things, they opened up hospitals and orphanages - things that the French Monarchy wasn't doing, things that were needed." Perenelle breathed in, nodding. "So, that's basically where my name comes from."

Nico nodded, and his lips quivered. Perenelle wondered what it would be like to see him actually smile.

"So," he said, "Your mother named you after a French humanitarian."

Perenelle laughed lightly. "Basically," she responded, nodding.

"But you don't like your name," he said.

Perenelle stalled, caught off-guard again. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you got mad when I called you Perenelle. You told me to call you Perry, because everyone calls you Perry."

"I—" She stopped, not sure where he was going with this. "I like my name."

"But you told me not to call you by it," Nico said.

"So?" she demanded, voice rising slightly.

"So you obviously have some sort of problem with your name. You told me to call you Perry, because everyone else calls you Perry. And if you like your name, then I assume other people started calling you that on their own. And you let them."

"What are you getting at?"

"Do you want me to get to the point?"

"Yes "

"Fine." Nico took a breath. "You have a weird name. Unique, interesting, but weird. People tend to take weird things, and try to make them normal. And you let them, because it's easier to not be weird, to not be special. And I bet people already set you apart, right? Because you're smarter than most people, and you know it, and they know it. So you tried, as much as you possibly could, to make yourself seem as normal as possible. You let your name be normalized, and you never told anyone about your power."

She stared at him, waiting.

"It's easier to not be noticed," he said finally. "I know. So you may like yourself, because you know that weird is… good. But you're afraid that other people won't like you, so you change youself for other people. Right?"

Perenelle was silent.

"I'll take that as a yes," Nico said. He sighed, the silence stretching on for a few very long moments. Finally, much to Perenelle's relief, he spoke.

"I'm not going to call you Perry. I'm gonna call you by your name. Perenelle. Okay?"

She stared at him for a moment. "Okay," she agreed.

"Good."

**-o-**

Nico didn't sleep at all that night. He'd continued talking to Perenelle, finding that she was actually kind of pleasant when she wasn't mad at him.

He knew he should be happy. He and Perenelle were on good terms at the moment, and he'd actually convinced her to try to work on minimizing her talent today. But, instead of feeling at ease, or accomplished, he felt overwhelmed.

Not only was becoming friends of sorts with a girl he was supposed to be helping to quite literally destroy a part of herself a bad idea, there was the obvious confusion of the prophecy death threats that Perenelle had been receiving, and why he even cared. She was probably right, and it was no big problem. There were some crazy minor gods on Olympus, who just loved screwing with clueless little demigods. He knew. When he was fifteen he'd recieved love notes on the back of Moroccan postcards from some fading minor goddess. But he couldn't help but feel like it was something more, something bigger, especially after what Persephone had said.

"Ready?"

He turned quickly at the sound of Perenelle's voice, finding her standing there, wearing a simple pair of black shorts, a white and blue striped t-shirt, her long wavy hair in a ponytail, bangs falling out and cascading around her face. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

Nico swallowed. "Yeah."

**-o-**

"Um, I'm sorry, but I don't think I want to diverge into the arts of life and death on a fucking roof when the wind pattern is going sixty-five miles per hour in August," Perenelle said, futilely attempting to stop her hair from whipping around her face. "I mean, this is New York City. It's supposed to be humid."

"Would you rather it be humid?" Nico asked. He'd brought her up to the roof for their first lesson, deciding there wasn't nearly enough room in the shoebox that was her apartment. His grey t-shirt was whipping around him violently, and he kind of wished he gotten a haircut so that he could actually attempt to see. He couldn't even imagine how Perenelle could deal with her mane.

"Humidity builds character," Perenelle said, nodding matter-of-factly.

Nico snorted. "I think you have enough character."

"I wasn't talking about me ," Perenelle retorted, nervously getting closer to the center of the building, retreating from her spot close to the edge, where she had been peering down, from twelve stories above street level. "I'm talking about you. I mean, really? Do you ever smile? You could probably be attractive if you would."

Nico started slightly at this. Perenelle's tone was neutral enough, and her face was passive, but the statement was loaded.

Before Nico could make a witty remark, Perenelle brought up a finger, pointing at him, saying, "What the fuck is with the plant?"

"Oh," he said, looking down at the small pot he held in his hand. He'd gone out in the dead of the night, after his conversation with Perenelle, and bought quite a few flowers, all in individual pots. This one was a daffodil. "I thought that the best way to go about this would be for you to try to heal a plant - after I, well, kill it - and for me to try to stop your power with my own. It's kind of a crappy id—"

Perenelle held up a hand, assuming the face that Nico was beginning to grow accustomed to - the one that asked how dare he question her intelligence and deductive reasoning. "Yeah, I know what your plan is, and I think it's smart. What did you think I thought, that you were planning on starting a green house?" She snorted, a hand on her hip, her features amused. "What I was asking is why that plant?"

"Would you rather we practice on a person?" Nico asked, his dark brow furrowing.

Perenelle sighed exasperatingly. "No, of course not. I mean why the fuck are we going to be killing and then re-killing a pretty plant?" She gestured to the daffodil, which Nico stared at like it was a foreign object. "I mean, couldn't you have picked something less elegant? Like carnations?"

Nico shook his head, disbelief written plainly on his face. "Perenelle, it's a plant. I went to the fucking bodega at three in the morning. When I told them I needed some potted plants they were convinced I meant weed, and it took about forty-five minutes to convince them otherwise. Finally, when they started showing me the goddamn flowers, they demanded I buy the most expensive ones, because I wouldn't take their precious weed. Carnations were out of the question."

Nico could've sworn that he saw her crack a smile, but she was fighting it now, trying to wipe the amusement of her face.

"Why didn't you just buy the weed?" she said.

He glared.

"Next time," she said, "make sure you get an ugly flower." She wrinkled her nose, and in that moment, much to Nico's horror, she sort of reminded him of Persephone.

They walked together then, their arms lightly brushing each other's, across to the far end of the large roof. You could see so much of Manhattan from here, and farther in the distance, Brooklyn and New Jersey. You could hear the cabs honking, the people yelling and laughing and talking, rushing to work and appointments. The sun shone brightly, causing Nico to regret coming up to the roof, but he muscled through.

He looked down at her curiously for a moment, smirking when he saw that the top of her blond head was barely even at his shoulder. His reverie broke when they reached one of the random bumps in the roof, painted white as was the rest of it - a sort of square lump just sitting there for no apparent reason.

"This'll work," Nico said, placing the flower onto it, happy not to be holding the object anymore.

"Has anyone ever told you that you should embrace a career in Agriculture?" Perenelle mused.

Nico shuddered. "Actually, yes," he said.

Perenelle shifted uncomfortably then, looking back from Nico to the flower to Nico to the flower. "Let's just - get this over with," she exhaled. "The sooner we start, the sooner my father will be off my back and all of this will be over."

So he proceeded to kill the daffodil.

**-o-**

Watching Nico kill the flower was hypnotic for Perenelle. She'd seen him do it before in her apartment with the little plant she'd had on the windowsill, but she'd been too surprised to really observe.

First the petals lost their brightness, the color draining out of them. They continued to wilt, drooping, the stem following suit, until the petals were falling from the flower and into the dirt of the pot.

And the entire time all she could think about was bringing it back. Putting her hand on the dead stem and reversing the process Nico had inflicted.

But she stopped herself, reminding herself that she wasn't going to be doing that anymore, no more healing. Nico was here so that that impulse could be pushed far back into the depths of her mind, where it would never resurface again.

"Okay," Nico said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Heal it."

"Oh," Perenelle said, immediately wanting to slap herself for the unneeded syllable. She prided herself in being well-spoken, if a major swearer, and hated it when she stumbled over her words, even slightly.

She placed her own hand on the plant then, and closed her eyes.

"Try to heal it like you always have. Don't hold back, or put extra force on it. Do it as you normally would," she heard Nico say, seemingly from behind her.

She felt her power flowing from her chest, through her body, out of her fingertips, and into the plant. If she was honest with herself, it hurt, but she'd never admit it.

"I'm going to touch you now," Nico said awkwardly, but she'd already assumed that he'd begin to counteract her right about now.

His hand touched hers then, and she'd be lying if she said that her stomach didn't churn a bit from the contact. From the feel of how his hand was placed over hers, he was standing mainly behind her, reaching around her. She didn't dare open her eyes.

And then, a feeling more foreign than the stirring in her stomach occurred: a feeling of pure ecstasy . Her power was being pushed back, drawn away, and oddly enough, it didn't seem to be fighting back. The pain left her chest, and she didn't feel so lightheaded anymore. Her features relaxed, and she sighed out in relief.

She leaned her head back, and was too relieved in that moment to care that the back of her head was brushing what felt like Nico's shoulder.

And just when she began to wonder if Nico had been drawing his head closer to hers, her head about to rest completely against him, he stepped away, and she practically had to steady herself as so not to fall.

Her eyes opened, and she observed several things: the flower was still dead, she felt better than ever, if a bit confused, and Nico wasstaring at her quite curiously.

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

"I know you," he said. He was standing off to the side of the flower now, facing her, having moved there fairly quickly. They are only about a foot apart, but considering how close they were moments before, it feels vast.

"Say what?"

"I knew you - well, I met you, before," Nico said.

"Um, no," Perenelle said. "We met for the first time last week."

"No," Nico said, shaking his head. "I met you before that. At camp."

"No," Perenelle repeated, quite petulantly. "I saw you at camp and knew who you were, but I never met you."

"No, no, we met," he said, and Perenelle could swear he was smiling then. but the sun was too bright, causing her to squint, so she couldn't be sure. "I can't believe I didn't remember this before," he murmured.

"When?"

"I was eighteen, so I guess you must have been fourteen, but you looked older," he began, and she was certain he was smiling now. "It was one of those nighttime bonfire things, but it wasn't quite like a singalong campfire thing. The Nymphs had set it up in the woods, and they had put all these lanterns and Christmas lights in the trees, so everyone could see even though it was night." He paused then, as the memory danced back into Perenelle's mind. "Everyone was there, and dancing, and playing music and singing. And the Nymphs had also made this gigantic feast, and everyone could just go up and get whatever they wanted and eat it wherever." Nico paused again, and Perenelle didn't think she'd ever heard him speak of something quite like this - especially not a social gathering.

"The food was late, though," Nico continued. "But no one cared, and everyone was just laughing about it. Finally it was all ready, though, and set out, and everyone was going to get some of it. Percy had forced me to go to the party in the first place, so I was just sort of hanging around. But I was going to go get some food, and then I saw you. You were sitting with your back against this big tree, your feet in a small creek in front of you, and you were reading a book." He paused once more. "Your face was so… different. I don't know, I just— I just wanted to know who you were, which was weird, 'cause I never cared much about the kids at camp."

Perenelle stared at him, rapt in interest, positively shocked by the way he was speaking. She didn't quite know how to describe the change he had made in his tone, the way he spoke of the event, but it startled her.

"So, I went over to you, because you seemed so into your book that I was sure you hadn't heard that the food was ready. The tree kind of blocked you from everyone else, so I don't think anyone else saw you, or saw me go over."

She nodded, prompting him to go on.

"I stood in front of you, and you looked up at me, seeming surprised. I said, 'The food's ready.' And then, looking up at me, with this weird look on your face, you said - and, gods, if I ever forget this - 'The food will wait.'"

"I did not say that," Pernelle said, holding up a finger, on the defensive.

"You did, and you know it," Nico said, laughing now. It took every last ounce of Perenelle's dignity not to laugh with him. "And then you smiled, and waved me off like I was your servant or something."

"_The food will wait_?" Pernelle repeated, and even though she made her tone disbelieving, she remembered it vivdly. She remembered being shocked that the son of Hades had walked over to her, intrigued by his simple statement, and surprised by herself for her response. She remembered him looking at her like she was something alien, and walking away. And she just couldn't believe that she hadn't remembered earlier.

"The food will wait," Nico agreed, no longer laughing, but still smiling slightly. "You're very self-important, aren't you?"

She glared halfheartedly, tucking her bangs behind her ears nervously, as she tended to do, it seemed, whenever he stared at her for an extended period of time.

"Why did you just remember?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Your face," he said softly, and again she was startled by his change in tone from his sarcastic and scowling self to… whatever this was. "Just now, when I was stopping you from healing the flower, you looked… happy. You looked the same way then, when you were reading by the creek."

Their eyes locked, and for just a second his emotions stayed unmasked, but then any door that was open closed, bringing his expression back to snarky indifference, with some scowl on the side.

"So, are we done for now?" Perenelle asked, gesturing towards the still-dead flower.

"Yeah, sure. We can continue tomorrow," Nico said nonchalantly. "I'm still mad at you for waving me off like I was some sort of royal servant, though," he said.

"Get over it, Dead Boy," Perenelle responded drily, walking away from him and towards the door on the roof that led back to the apartments below. "The complaints can wait."

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><p><strong>I'm really proud of my update rate for this story. I have the entire thing plotted out, so a new chapter should be up every week or so. Review or I will lose all faith in this story and fall into a pit of one-shots and never return.<strong>


	4. O, Muse!

**Author's Note:**I'm really loving all the reactions I'm getting! And yes, to those of you who asked (I believe there were a couple,) that story about Perenelle Flamel is real. Look it up. :) Anyways, I'm really enjoying writing this story, and I can't wait to see what you guys think about this chapter. This is really my major project at the moment, because one of my other stories is on hiatus, and the one about Nico's girlfriends can wait a bit. Sorry to anyone who reads that. Well, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

* * *

><p><em>"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself."<em>

-Oscar Wilde, _The Picture of Dorian Grey_

**-o-**_  
><em>

Nico wasn't one to plan out his days, to think about what would happen in the morning before he went to sleep. (This was largely due to the fact that he tended to pass out in random places, and to actually go to sleep in the morning, but that's another story.) However, if he had, being threatened by a god - who also happened to be the father of the girl he was roommates with at the time - probably wouldn't be on the agenda.

When Apollo had appeared in a dark alley that Nico had been using as a shortcut back to Perenelle's apartment, Nico had seriously considered shadow-traveling his ass out of there before Apollo could say limerick. But the god's expression had startled him so much, he had simply stopped in his tracks and stammered a greeting.

"L-Lord Apollo," Nico said, hands in his jeans pockets, absorbing the god's expression. And Apollo's face was livid .

"Nico," Apollo said tightly. "How has your training with Perry been going?" Nico could tell that he tried to say it lightly, casually, easy-going as he usually would. But the expression of rage, and the fact that he looked older than his usual teenage appearance, let Nico know that there was going to be nothing light, easy-going, or casual about this conversation.

And even worse than that, was that Nico knew exactly what Apollo was referring to, practically before he finished his sentence. He'd fucked up, plain and simple, and he didn't even know why he did it in the first place. His and Perenelle's relationship was supposed to be strictly professional - yet just the day before, when they'd finally begun training, he'd gotten way too close to her, and then went on to endearingly remind her of the first time they'd met and note on her facial features. Not to mention his tirade about her name.

To sum it up: Nico knew he was in deep shit.

But of course he wouldn't let Apollo know that. If there was one thing he had learned from Rachel Elizabeth Dare, it was that there were times when playing dumb was the smartest possible plan of action.

"Oh, fine ," Nico said nonchalantly, shrugging.

"Is that so?" Apollo said, stressing each word like a guitar with strings which were far too tight. "I don't believe fine is the word I would use to describe what I saw yesterday." As if reading Nico's thoughts, he smiled without humor, saying, "You were on the roof, after all."

"Well, if by that you mean better than fine, then I agree," Nico said, and then felt like biting his own tongue. Getting snarky with Apollo was no way to deal with this dilemma, albeit tempting. "It went great. She wasn't able to heal the plant. I counteracted her. If we keep the practices up routinely she shouldn't be able to use her power anymore, eventually." He was futilely hoping this little speech would deter Apollo.

"Nico, I've stopped you here in this typically dark alley today–"

"Which is not at all weird," Nico interjected.

"–to tell you that you need to stop whatever it is you think you're doing." Apollo finished. The two men stood several feet apart from each other, the space between them taut with tension. The alley smelled of garbage and liquor.

"What?" Nico asked, still hoping to pass GO and collect two-hundred.

"Let's just say that if you keep going down this path you're going down, you'll be in for many surprises. Some of which you really don't want to get involved in. Trust me." Apollo balled and unballed his fist at his side.

"Well, you're being oddly cryptic," Nico responded, startled when he realized that he sounded like Perenelle.

"Nico, I know that you understand what I'm talking about. As much as I hate to admit it, you're not stupid." He looked Nico over with an obvious distaste that, truthfully, Nico had grown quite used to over the years. "I know that you understand my feelings about the House of Hades. I know that you understand that my getting you to offset Perry's problem was a last resort. But trust me when I say, that you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. You need to stop."

"Did you just fire me?" Nico said, trying to act unfazed by Apollo's even more cryptic crypticism. He would definitely have to talk to his father - soon . "Because me and Perenelle were just starting to get along, and–"

"Yes," Apollo said, and there was something else in his voice, a sort of sick humor - like Nico had just sealed his fate. "I saw that."

Nico swallowed.

"And, no, to your previous question," Apollo went on, that same disconcerting tone in his voice. "You're not fired. But I do highly suggest that you hurry up the process of eliminating Perenelle's powers - for her sake, of course. Yet, if you do decide to stay longer for whatever reasons you may - well, who knows? You may come in handy."

"What do you–" Nico began to ask, but stopped when Apollo turned into a warm breeze, brightening the alley momentarily with golden light, and disappeared.

**-o-**

Perenelle screamed, scrambling off the back of her couch, dropping her book, and hitting her hardwood floor with a loud thump.

"Why do they always react so…" One of the nine women pursed her lips, searching for the correct word. "…dramatically?"

"I don't know, Melpomene," one of the other nine said, perching herself on the redwood table that held the TV in Perenelle's living room. "Ask Calliope. She's the expert on drama. "

"Oh, go to Tartarus, Thalia!" one of the other woman shouted back. "You're just jealous because Homer liked me best!"

"Um, excuse me?" Perenelle said, still sitting on the floor behind her couch, arms behind her, holding her up. Her legs, clad in cotton shorts, spread out awkwardly in front of her. "May I make a suggestion?"

"You mean about your reaction?" the one named Melpomene asked solemnly.

"Yes," Perenelle said, feeling nine sets of eyes watching her. She swallowed. "Perhaps people react the way they do because nine woman wearing Grecian robes suddenly appearing in their living room is a tad startling," Perenelle said, beginning to stand. "Just a tad."

The nine woman seemed to consider this. They all wore beautiful, long Grecian dresses, each of them a different color. White, green, blue, black, yellow, brown, pink, purple, and red. They were all beautiful themselves, in a similar way to one another. All of them had Mediterranean complexions, which reminded Perenelle of Nico's, and long, thick hair, which was also an array of colors from blonde to auburn to black. They had large eyes, also varying in colors, and absolutely perfect bone structure. They were slim, varying in heights, yet all voluptuous in a mild-mannered sort of way. Their dresses hit the floor, so Perenelle couldn't see their feet, but she assumed they were wearing Grecian sandals. And Perenelle knew exactly who they were.

"You're the Muses," she said, eyes wide, studying them all in awe.

"Indeed we are, dear," the one in a red dress said. She had black hair and smoldering dark brown eyes. She smiled at Perenelle, dazzling her.

"They don't usually figure it out so quickly," the one in a green dress said; she had blue eyes the same shade as Perenelle's, and thick dark blonde hair like hers, too. In fact, there was quite a resemblance. She seemed impressed.

The others nodded in agreement.

"Um," Perenelle said, standing behind her couch, looking at the nine gorgeous woman who were all perched and leaning on different pieces of furniture. "Before I ask why you're here, could you maybe tell me which one each of you are?" Perenelle was ecstatic. Meeting the goddesses of the arts, the Muses , was an experience that made her heart beat double time and her mind rush with questions - even more than usual.

"Of course, darling," said the Muse wearing a brown dress. She had brown hair and shining green eyes. "I am Polymnia, the Muse of Sacred Song."

The woman who looked like Perenelle said, "I am Clio, the Muse of History." The woman in the red dress continued with, "Erato, Muse of Lyric and Love Poetry." And then the woman in the blue dress said, "Urania, Muse of Astronomy." The woman in the black dress: "Melpomene, the Muse of Tragedy." The woman in the yellow dress: "Thalia, Muse of Comedy." The woman in the pink dress: "Terpsichore, the Muse of Dance." The woman in the purple dress: "Euterpe, the Muse of Music." And finally, the woman in the white dress: "I am Calliope, the Muse of Epic and Heroic Poetry." She smiled. "And Homer liked me best."

"Yeah, well, Zeus likes me best, okay?" said Thalia. "He named his bastard daughter after me!"

"And look how that turned out," Melpomene muttered, her auburn hair and green eyes bright and shining, despite her solemn demeanor.

"If you don't mind me asking," Perenelle interjected, "why are you here? It's not everyday I have nine goddesses in my living room." She smiled sheepishly.

"Several reasons, actually," Clio said. "The first being: we are your aunts."

"Had to meet our magical little niece at one point or another," Polymnia added.

"What don't you people understand about tragic end ?" Melpomene said, but the other Muses ignored her. Before Perenelle could ask her to elaborate, Calliope began speaking.

"Don't listen to her, sweetheart." She smiled like they shared a secret. "Always been a downer. She's been upset ever since Homer dedicated The Odyssey to me."

"I got Antigone!" Melpomene screeched.

"Will you ever stop bragging about Homer?" Erato demanded, examining her nails irritably. "So you inspired him. That's your job."

"And," Clio went on, rolling her eyes at her sisters, "we had to be able to say we got here before Aphrodite, of course." She smiled.

"What?" Perenelle said.

"Oh, we'll explain later," Erato promised, winking.

"Indeed," Clio agreed. "And, we thought we might as well help you with your dilemma."

"Dilemma?" Perenelle asked.

"Really?" Melpomene demanded. "Clio, you said the girl was smart. She can't recall the magical death threats she's been recieving?"

"Oh, lay off the poor girl," Euterpe said. "She's been busy."

"And I couldn't help but meet you," Clio went on. "You're following my path, after all."

"Oh," Perenelle said, smiling with delight. "History major." She was in fact majoring in history at Columbia. "But I'm minoring in Art History, so I think that kind of covers all of you."

"But mainly me," Clio said. "Why do you think we look so much alike?"

Perenelle started, her eyes widening slightly. "Is that really how it works?"

"Well, I suppose godly magical genetics do come into it, but the Fates always play their role," Clio responded kindly.

"Huh," Perenelle said. She made a mental note to get more books about the Muses. "What were you saying about getting here before Aphrodite?" she asked, remembering their earlier comment.

Terpsichore was the first to speak, "Well, let me think," she said, sarcasm clear in her voice. "Erato, perhaps you know?"

"I do indeed," Erato said. Perenelle herself was not attracted to woman sexually, although she was one to admire beauty wherever she saw it. However, there was something about Erato - the way she held herself, her dark hair, her smoldering eyes - that made Perenelle think that there couldn't possibly be anyone who would kick that woman out of bed. Erato could probably give Aphrodite a run for her money.

"That was quite a show on the roof yesterday," Erato continued, looking at Perenelle in a way that made her feel like she was naked. "Very interesting. All of Olympus is talking!" she finished gleefully.

"Show?" Perenelle said, embarrassment and something else filling her stomach.

"Yes," Urania agreed, her blue dress shimmering. "Apollo - our boss, your father - is furious." She then seemed to contemplate her statement, murmuring, "Though I do suppose it could work out for him well in the end."

"None of this will end well," Melpomene muttered.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Perenelle asked. "I haven't gotten one of those death threats in weeks . It was probably just someone on Olympus screwing with me." She put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "Oh, kind of like right now. What happened on the roof was nothing to write home about."

"Oh, but it was," Erato said.

"Why are they always so blind?" Calliope agreed.

"Nico was helping me eliminate my power by stopping me from healing a dead plant," Perenelle defended. "It was hardly romantic, or whatever the hell it is you're all implying."

"Perhaps not," Erato allowed. "But it was… oh, how do I put this delicately?"

"Delicately?" Clio said with a laugh. "Erato, you're about as delicate as a gun. Spit it out so we can all giggle like schoolgirls and convince Perenelle of her inner feelings."

"Oh, all right," Erato said with a smile. "It was sexy ." She said the word like it was the most scandalous thing she could think of.

"It was, wasn't it?" Terpischore said.

"Mmhm," Euterpe said.

Perenelle spluttered. "Okay, I'm not sure what's in the water up on Olympus, but obviously your standards for sexy are a bit out of wack."

"Denial," Melpomene said, "is the beginning of tragedy."

"You," Perenelle said, "are being oddly cryptic."

The other eight goddesses giggled.

"I like you," Thalia decided, smiling broadly.

"Yes," Erato said, looking Perenelle up and down. "She speaks like she's seen so much more than she possibly could have, in nineteen years of life."

"She has magical healing powers," Perenelle said.

"Indeed you do," Clio said. "Which brings us back to our other point."

"Yes," Thalia said. "You are not being 'messed with' by someone on Olympus. It is not a practical joke. You are in danger. "

"Danger," Perenelle repeated.

"Danger," Thalia agreed.

"I do suggest you watch your back," Clio threw in.

"No matter what she does, she won't–" Melpomene started, just to be interrupted by Erato.

"And your little boyfriend can help you," Erato said, smiling. "You don't really think Apollo only put him here to help you with your power?"

"At first he did," Urania said.

"Well, perhaps at first ," Erato allowed. "But I'm sure that he's at least realized by now how Nico can come in handy with Perenelle's other issues. Even if he's not too happy about it."

"Perenelle, dear," Clio went on. "We're trying to warn you of your impending doom."

"Well, now you just sound like Melpomene," Polymnia said.

"Oh, dear," Clio said in a worried voice. Thalia giggled.

"I'm trying to explain to you all that there is no living for this girl!" Melpomene exclaimed. "Especially considering how the Council is handling it all -"

"Don't listen to Melpomene, sweetheart," Erato said. "She's always worrying."

Melpomene rolled her eyes and glared some more.

"No, actually, I think I may like to hear what she has to say–"

"Trust me, dear, you don't," Clio assured her.

"Indeed not," Urania agreed.

"Now, back to the point," Thalia said. "Let's see, let's see... oh, yes! Okay, let that Son of Hades help you, be careful where you go late at night - you did already have that first little accident, as I recall–"

"Wait, are you talking about the time I ended up in the hospital?" Perenelle asked. "When Apollo had Nico move in with me?"

The Muses ignored Perenelle.

"Oh, stay away from warehouses!" Terpishcore said.

"Oh, yes!" Calliope agreed. "Away from warehouses! Why anyone would want to go to a warehouse in the first place I cannot imagine, but you really want to stay away from them now."

"That's really gonna put my crack business on hold," Perenelle muttered.

"Ah, what else, what else…?" Clio wondered aloud. "Oh, yes. Perenelle, this is very important. I need you to listen to me. Okay?"

Perenelle nodded.

"Eliminate your power as quickly as possible.

"You may think we mean only for the sake of you not continuing on the path you're on - the path that is, frankly, killing you, but there are variables that you know nothing of. You need to let Nico help you, and you need to be very, very careful."

"It really would be a shame if you died," Erato agreed.

Perenelle's cocked her head slightly. "Um, thank you?"

"Well then," Calliope said, standing, running her hands lightly down the front of her gown. "I suppose that covers all of it. This has been rather fun, hasn't it?"

All the Muses but Melpomene agreed.

"We shall definitely visit you again!" Clio declared. "Soon, hopefully. We have to do it when Apollo won't notice. He'd be so angry if he knew we were here." She smiled.

"Why would he be angry? Because of the information you only kind of gave me about my 'impending doom'?"

"That," Erato agreed slowly. "And a few other things."

"Can we please leave now?" Melpomene asked. "Ignorance towards tragic fate sickens me."

The other Muses rolled their eyes, but Perenelle was only feeling more uneasy.

But before she could yet again ask what Melpomene was talking about, Clio smiled again and said, "It's been a pleasure, Perenelle Luisa Adler."

The nine goddesses vanished, and Perenelle decided she needed a nap.

**-o-**

A few hours before the Muses had appeared in Perenelle's apartment, Nico had said he was going out and probably wouldn't be back until late that night. He hadn't given an excuse, and Perenelle hadn't had time to ask. He'd said that they could continue their "lessons" later.

Perenelle didn't know why she was disappointed. Perhaps it was the feeling of ecstasy she had experienced when her power had been overrided. Or maybe it was how Nico had spoken when recalling his and Perenelle's first meeting.

She shook her head, trying to focus on her book. She'd gone out after her meeting with the Muses, to the one place where she knew she'd be able to calm her thoughts. A book store.

She'd bought three books. One was a fantasy novel, which Perenelle did love to indulge in. Another was a textbook she would be needing for her upcoming year of college. And the last was a book called The Lives of the Muses, which was so detailed and accurate Perenelle was sure that whoever had written it must know about the whole mythical deal.

She read the book about the Muses now, sitting on her couch, music on in the background. Every once in a while the text would delve into her father, considering Apollo was basically the Muses' boss. She was always embarrassed when reading the stories about her father - yet, she supposed all demigods would be.

When she had been at Camp Half-Blood she had been known, but not for her power. She had been known for being exceptionally smart. So smart, that people questioned how she wasn't in the Athena cabin. Although, people did say that there was a more laid-back side of her that was definitely more like Apollo. She'd had friends, and been friendly with basically everyone else, spending her days helping out in the library that had been constructed after the war.

She had actually formed quite a solid relationship with Chiron himself. He'd been impressed by her scholarly mind and love for reading, and had let her make him lists of books she thought he should order for the library, and organize the Big House at times. When she'd turned seventeen, the year she'd decided to stay at the camp for winter (because the monsters were getting really annoying and she could use a break from her mother), he'd even let her teach some of the younger campers. She'd taught them about the history of their family and how all major world events linked back to them. Perenelle had loved teaching, and the students had actually enjoyed her class as well. Chiron had told her it was because she had a knack for being really informative, and yet interesting and funny. That was when Pernenelle knew she wanted to be a teacher.

She closed her book, resting her head back against the couch. It was about midnight now, and she was starting to get a bit worried about Nico. But he had said he'd be back late, hadn't he? She shouldn't worry about it. So, she grabbed her new fantasy novel, turned off all the lights except for a tiny one in the corner of the living room, and went to her bedroom, leaving the door cracked.

**-o-**

When Nico got back to Perenelle's apartment, it was dark, save for a little lamp in the corner. He glanced at the clock on the microwave in her kitchen. One-thirty A.M. Shit.

He changed into a pair of sweatpants and left his shirt off. It was true that he'd been walking around Perenelle's apartment like he owned the place, sometimes in a pair of boxers, but he'd made a deal with Perenelle that morning, that he would at least wear sweatpants, as long as she didn't make a big deal about his lack of a shirt. It had all started when she'd woken up that morning, walked into the living room, seen Nico lounging half-naked, and said, "Di Angelo, if I wanted to spend every waking moment looking at a man only wearing boxers and acting like he is the king of my apartment, I'd get married."

He smiled slightly at the memory, although at the time he'd only glared.

He looked at the couch then, ready to pass out after a day of death threats and other activities, but groaned when he remembered what that couch felt like. It was like sleeping on a slab of cement covered in leaves. Which he'd actually done before, and was in no hurry to revisit.

He ran a hand through his hair and pinched his eyes shut. He just wanted to sleep in a bed. A bed with a mattress. And pillows. And sheets. And other things usually associated with beds.

Nico had a thought then, that although obvious, felt like an ingenious revelation at the time. There was always Perenelle's bed. He'd been in her room for the first time this morning, looking for his sunglasses, which she had stolen (he'd been living with her for a week and she was already stealing his shit, for fuck's sake), and had gotten a look at her bed. It had looked exceptionally comfortable. When he'd told Perenelle this, she'd said it was, and stuck out her tongue at him.

He peered into her room now, and although it looked dark, he knew she wasn't fully asleep yet. Perenelle's average bedtime was three-thirty in the morning, as he'd observed from her music and the sound of her typing on her laptop.

He walked over to the door of her bedroom, which was already half-open. He was silently cursing himself as he did this, telling himself to be a man and sleep on the couch. But he knew there was no going back now. He wasn't sure if it was his need to rebel towards any god who threatened him, or if he really wanted to sleep in an actual bed that badly, but he continued moving. "Perenelle?"

"Nico, I didn't steal your fucking sunglasses again," came her voice from the center of the bed. All of the lights were off, the only light coming in from the streets, illuminating her and the the room softly. Her body was under the covers, hands resting on her stomach. She stared up at the ceiling. "I couldn't even see through them, they were so dark. What are they made out of, anyway? Steel?"

Nico rolled his eyes, walking through the threshold of her doorway, leaning on the wall opposite her bed. She lifted her head slightly at this, but then resumed her position. He moved forward then, and came to sit at the end of her bed. She sat up then.

"What do you want?" she asked, suspicion clear on her face.

"I want to sleep in the bed," Nico said, matter-of-factly.

"What?" Perenelle demanded, leaning forward. "I – I - With me?"

Nico shrugged. "You can leave or stay, I don't really care. I just want to sleep in the bed."

"No!"

"Oh, come on ," he said, leaning towards her now. They were meeting in the middle of her bed now, their faces scarcely a foot apart. "Your couch is like cement!"

"That's not my problem, di Angelo! I'm not sharing my bed with you, and I'm sure as hell not leaving."

"Christ, Perenelle, it's not like I want to fucking cuddle! I just want to sleep in a fucking bed."

"Nico, the answer is no!" she repeated. "Go back to the couch!" she finished, pointing to the living room.

"Look, if your problem is sharing the bed with me, we can make a wall in the middle."

"A wall?"

"Yeah," Nico said. "Of pillows. In the middle. Separating us."

Perenelle laughed shortly. "Nico, my bed is not the border of Mongolia and China."

"Gods, Perenelle, please," he said, resorting to begging. "Please."

She began to open her mouth, then closed it again. A flurry of emotions crossed her face then, but finally she sighed, slumping forward slightly, and he knew she was giving in.

"Great," Nico said. "I'll get the pillows from the couch for the wa–"

"Wait," Perenelle interrupted, holding up a hand. "There are rules."

Nico waited.

"If I tell you to move over, you move over. If I tell you to get me a glass of water, you get me a glass of water. If I kick you, you cannot complain. Understood?"

Nico sighed, reluctantly saying, "Uh-huh."

"Good."

Nico got the other pillows, and they constructed a wall in the center of the bed, Perenelle instructing him the entire time. Finally it was finished, and they both settled in on their respective sides of the bed.

He turned his head, unable to see her over the pillows, but he could hear her steady breathing.

"Goodnight, I guess," he said quietly.

"Goodnight," she responded.

Thus began a very long night.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you guys liked this chapter! Clues have been dropped, repeatedly, and you are in for a fun next chapter, I assure you. REVIEW! (I will fall into a pit of one-shots as retaliation if you don't...)<strong>


	5. Rave

_**Author's Note: **_Great reviews for the last chapter. Thank you all very much! The plot really gets rolling in this chapter, and I can't wait to see the reactions. Remember: MAJOR spoilers for Heroes of Olympus. Enjoy!

_**Disclaimer:**_I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

* * *

><p>"<em>Death when unmasked shows us a friendly face and is a terror only at a distance<em>."

- Oliver Goldsmith

**-o-**

"Where were you earlier?" Perenelle finally asked over the pillow wall, her head propped up on her hand so she could see Nico's face. He was in a similar position, looking at her as well, but the pillows remained between them, separating their bodies.

"Out," Nico responded. It'd been about an hour or so since he'd convinced Perenelle to share her bed with him, and about thirty minutes since they'd both realized they couldn't sleep. They'd resorted to speaking to each other, hoping the monotonous sounds of each other's voices would lull them into a deep sleep that would last well past noon the next day.

"I gathered as much," Perenelle said, rolling her eyes. Despite her nonchalance, she was, however, thankful that the room was dimly lit in that moment, for she was sure she wasn't looking her best, and it helped her to not continually glance down at his bare chest. "A bit more specific, maybe? You did blow off our lesson."

"Your father threatened me," Nico diverted.

"Oh, my Allah," Perenelle said drily. "He threatens everyone. It's what he does. People say he's charming, but really he's just a thousand-year old, all knowing psychopath. My mom says that when they first met he threatened to send pigeons who randomly came up with bad sonnets after her if she didn't agree to go out with him."

"And people say my father's bad," Nico said, more to himself than Perenelle, although she smirked. "Your mother has the Sight?" he asked, more audible then.

"Yeah," Perenelle said, fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt. "Probably why she got so fucked up." She said the last part quietly, but Nico heard her clearly.

They were silent then, Nico not wanting to push the topic. It was an awkward silence, the air filled with silent and unanswered questions.

Nico's mind reeled with all the possibilities of what Perenelle specifically meant about her mother being "fucked up." He knew it could stretch anywhere from a general lack of caring to downright insanity. He'd met plenty of human parents to demigods, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that the ones who could See were the ones who ended up fucked up. He'd been there with Percy when they'd met May Castellan, after all.

He went on to wonder how his mother had held it together. The memories he had gained back of her were wonderful, and he only remembered her being lovely and determined and smart and beautiful, never raising her voice or getting more put out than a stern expression. He supposed it was because his father had stayed with her, but then again, Sally Jackson had the Sight, and she'd done everything to protect Percy without Poseidon. She was the best mother he knew, and somehow he also knew that if Maria di Angelo had been in the same position, she would've done just fine as well. Some people were simply survivors, despite heartbreak.

So then, in a moment foreign to Nico's own ears, he said, "I'm sorry, Perenelle."

**-o-**

"Seriously, though, where were you?" Perenelle asked again, twenty minutes after Nico's absolutely alien moment of compassion, and the shocked look on both of their faces.

"_Before _your father threatened me?"

"Yes, before Apollo acted like himself."

"I don't remember," Nico lied, his eyes betraying no emotion and his face passive. He was actually quite an impressive liar, but at the moment he had only been half trying, and Perenelle was just too smart.

"Hm," Perenelle mused. "This can only mean one of two things."

"What?"

"Either you killed someone -" Perenelle began.

"I'm only a sociopath on Mondays," Nico interrupted.

"_Or_, you were attempting to get laid." Perenelle nodded, sitting cross legged on her side of the wall now.

He was silent. _This is so fucking stupid - fuck, shit, why did I get stuck with the magical version of Annabeth?_

"Oh. My. Gods," Perenelle said, leaning in. "I was _kidding_! But I'm totally right, aren't I?"

He was silent some more.

"Oh my fucking gods, I'm totally fucking right, fuck, fuck, _fuck_, I'm good at this!"

"Yes," Nico responded, shifting uncomfortably. "You're fucking right Perenelle. I killed a man. Although, it was pretty dark in that basement, so who knows really-"

"Dear God, Nico," Perenelle said, ignoring him. "I cannot believe you blew off our magical training session to chase tail!"

"I can," Nico said. "And I wasn't just chasing random tail, I was - wait, why the fuck am I telling you this?"

"Um, because we can't sleep and you're a man whore?" Perenelle suggested.

"Right," Nico said. "I was meeting a girl I already know, whose tail I chased a couple of weeks ago. We were rudely interrupted when my father informed me that I would be moving in with you, actually. Her name starts with a J, I think."

"How romantic," Perenelle said drily. "When's the wedding?"

Nico rolled his eyes.

"Well, _that _can only mean one of five things," Perenelle declared.

"This is getting old," Nico said.

"One: she's a Roman demigod." Nico laughed at this.

"Two: she's dead." He just frowned at this one.

"Three: she's a _man_. Which would be just fine, honestly. I'd rather like having a gay roomate, actually." Nico nodded at this, as if taking her information into account.

"Four: she's downright homely. Somehow, I find this the least likely," she added. Nico shrugged.

"Five: she's stupid." Nico was silent.

"Oh, my fucking gods, I thought you were a good liar!" Perenelle said, laughing. "She's like 'Oh, shit, I just choked on a noodle' stupid, isn't she? Oh, dear God, this is _gold_."

Nico shook his head dissaprovingly. "She's not _stupid_," Nico said, and something about the tone of his voice, like he was not actually trying to defend the nameless girl, but just stating a fact, made Perenelle listen. "She's not like you, though."

Perenelle quieted at this statement. It was in that moment that she decided she would let it go, something she rarely, if ever, did. It wasn't like who Nico fucked was her business, anyway.

"Well, thanks, I guess," she said, and she would have given her pinky finger right then if it guaranteed that Nico didn't see her blush.

**-o-**

"I think the pillow wall is deflating," Nico noted. The mound of pillows had in fact squished down enough that if they were lying down, they'd be able to see each other just by glancing over.

Perenelle glanced at the clock. Three-thirty-seven A.M.

"Whatever."

**-o-**

They both laid on their backs.

"Are we friends now?" Perenelle asked, more just to say something than actually hear the answer. However, there was a part of her, one that she wasn't quite familiar with, that was craving to know the answer.

"Well, I've killed a plant with my mind in front of you, you've healed one with _your_ mind in front of me, you've seen me in my underwear, and now we're sharing a bed with a deflated pillow wall." Nico clucked his tongue. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

**-o-**

They fell asleep when the sun was rising, the pillow wall deflated. Both of them on their backs, legs and arms sprawled out, very close to touching. Perenelle's hand lay on top of what once was the Great Pillow Wall of Manhattan, close to Nico's head.

"Well," said the deep voice at the foot of the bed. "Isn't this interesting."

Nico's eyes immediately snapped open. Perenelle jumped, rubbing her eyes and trying to grab her glasses off the bedside table as quickly as possible. In the blur before her she saw a tall, dark figure, definitely a man. He stood with his arms crossed, and was she crazy, or did he look amused? She put on her glasses and -

And he looked like Nico.

"Father," Nico said, and Perenelle had never heard him sound more uncomfortable.

"Oh, dear Jehovah," Perenelle said lowly.

"I decided it was about time I pay a visit," Hades said, smirking. "To see if you've made any progress."

Nico and Perenelle both mulled this statement over, stalling as long as possible. Perenelle ran her fingers through her long hair, shifting slowly into a cross legged position, looking at the god. He wore a suit, and his hair was so black it hurt her eyes. She was too afraid to say anything, so she just looked over at Nico.

"We began training," Nico said, and there was something in his voice that Perenelle couldn't quite place, but she had never heard him sound like it before, and it intrigued her. It wasn't desperation exactly -

Her train of thought was broken when Nico continued to speak. "It worked - she couldn't heal the plant. We should be done sooner than I thought if we keep it up in daily lessons."

The god of the dead waited, and Perenelle felt for Nico then. What must it be like, being a child of the Big Three? At least she could tell her father to fuck off, and only be mildly worried about being turned into a pile of haikus. But with Hades, it was like he was waiting for more, like this timid answer wasn't enough. In that moment she felt for all children of the Big Three - Nico, Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Thalia...talk about feeling like you could never live up to someone's standards.

Also, as Perenelle had noticed with all the gods she had met, they gave you their rapt interest when you were speaking, even if it were something mundane, if they decided you deserved the oppurtunity. Like they had all the time in the world - which, Perenelle thought, they did. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Hades seemed to realize his son was done then, and nodded remotely. He wasn't smirking anymore. Now he seemed to be simply studying the scene, taking in every detail, and putting it together, forming the story that his all knowing-ness had probably already informed him of. His eyes lingered on Perenelle. He looked back at his son. Back to Perenelle. Back to Nico.

"I suppose that's good news." He said it as if he couldn't care less. But there were a few other things behind his eyes, which Perenelle struggled to read. Worry, and amusement still? Just utter indifference? He turned his gaze on Perenelle completely then, and she braced herself for a scolding or to be obliterated on sight. Nico stiffened besider her, as did she, but when she saw the look in the god's eyes, she calmed. She saw mild curiousity.

"You said 'Jehovah' earlier," he said. "Are you one of those half-bloods that insist on keeping religion despite everything they know?" His tone was light enough, and she smiled slightly.

"Oh, no," she said in that way of hers. "I'm just contrary."

His eyes flash for a second, but not with anger. Finally he said, "You never know with the children of Apollo."

"You really don't," she agreed, smiling, and leaning forward slightly, relaxed now. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Nico looking no less than shocked by the small exchange.

After a few beats, Hades spoke again."Well, making your aquaintance wasn't nearly as bad as I'd expected." He nodded slightly, arms crossed, though his stance was considerably calm. Perenelle then, without thinking it through, reached her hand out, as though to shake his. His surprised look made her start to retract her hand quickly, but he stuck his hand out as well, and she moved hers back to shake his. The god's hand was much larger than her own, but she gave a firm handshake as always, and he seemed mildly impressed. She caught his dark eyes for a moment, and this time she read them perfectly, like he was not bothering hiding them anymore. All she saw was sympathy and pity, and that terrified her.

"It was nice to meet you, too," she managed, swallowing. He let go of her hand, and turned to Nico, who was standing next to the bed now, staring at the scene with complete shock and awe.

"Nico," Hades said, and his tone was rougher than it was when he spoke to Perenelle. Nico flinched slightly. "I need to speak with you for a moment." He walked into the living room then, and Nico glanced at Perenelle before following after him. She mouthed an apology to him, but he just shook his head at her.

He followed his father into the living room then, braced for a scolding. A reminder of just how stupid he is.

**-o-**

When he entered the living room, he closed Perenelle's bedroom door behind him, leaving her in the room alone. His father threw him a t-shirt. Nico put it on quickly.

His father looked at him for a second, and his expression almost seemed torn, as if he can't decide whether to be angry or proud of him. Nico was confused, to say the least.

"Would you," his father began, "possibly like to tell me what you were doing in her bed? Are you two -"

"What – no! No!" Nico said quickly, cutting his father off. "I don't even–no –and anyway, even if I did, Perenelle–Perenelle–"

"Yes, yes, she doesn't seem the type," Hades said, cutting Nico off this time. "So, the reason you were in her bed is because you were sick of the couch and somehow convinced her to pity you?"

"Uh..." Hades waited. "Yeah?"

Hades rolled his eyes, and then continued to look at Nico disbelievingly. "Do you not realize that Apollo is on the warpath? Even if what happened on the roof and in her _bed _last night wasn't anything more than what you're saying, that doesn't deter from how it looked."

"The roof –?"

"And just because you could possibly prove to be a help with the bigger matter at hand, does not mean he'll be lenient. Especially with Zeus' stance at the moment, and the fact that even we cannot interfere –"

"Wait," Nico interrupted. "What are you talking about? What bigger matter at hand–what?"

He expected Hades to roll his eyes again and call him dense, but instead he paused, a look on his face that Nico couldn't quite make out. "It's a dilemma that's been going on for a while," Hades said, his hand gripping the back of Perenelle's couch. "Since the second war. Old enemies–ones we didn't expect–resurfaced." He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Nico stared, perplexed, waiting. "Leave it to Phoebus Apollo to be the cause of his own daughter's–" He stopped himself then, shaking his head and standing up straight. He looked at Nico then, really looked at him, and the usual malice wasn't there. He looked sympathetic, and like he wanted to say a lot of things. But each one had some string attached, some reason he couldn't voice them. Hades sighed.

"Father," Nico began tentatively. "Old enemies? I thought the second war was over–I know it's over. I was there."

"There were...things we didn't expect. They just didn't exist the first time. We never even thought about it."

"Father–" he tried again, but the god cut him off with a stern look. Nico swallowed.

"I must go now," he said. "I should not have told you everything I did. Feel free to tell Perenelle, however." His expression grew softer then, and he said, "She's quite different, isn't she? At least from what I've seen. More than I ever hoped for for you."

And then, in an instant, he was gone, leaving Nico standing there, feeling even more confused than he had prior to his father's arrival.

**-o-**

"Ha-ha," Perenelle said to Karey, swivelling in her chair behind the counter at the Strand. "Oh, wait, you're serious."

"Of course I'm serious!" Karey exclaimed. "Perry, you _can't _say no this time! You said no the last three times, promising you'd come the next, and you never do. You need to find your inner white trash."

Perenelle snorted. "Karey, maybe I wasn't clear the last few times. I _am not_ going to an outdoor rave_. _Getting roofies slipped into my drink and standing on the banks of the Hudson is not my idea of a good time. Anyways, there's this documentary on the History channel tonight–"

Karey held up a hand, stopping Perenelle's train of thought. "Perry, it's not really like a _rave _rave. Just a big outdoor party, bordering on a _rave _rave. Anyway, you've seen enough documentaries for the two of us."

"What the fuck would I even wear to a rave?" Perenelle demanded. "And anyway, I don't know where it _is_. And you'll be the only person I know there, and you know how I hate that–"

"No I won't!" Karey interrupted. "I convinced Angie to come, and all the guys will be there. We'll have our own little circle of bad-ass-ness. Now, for what to wear, well, I wouldn't go fancy–I mean, it is a _rave_. But it's not a _rave _rave, so you don't want to go too slutty. I think a skirt and t-shirt would do. And I'll just give you directions."

Perenelle pursed her lips, still visibly displeased. "Fine," she finally said, earning a squeal from Karey. Perenelle smiled slightly. "But I'm not promising to enjoy myself–and I'm going to leave whenever I feel like it!"

"Deal!" Karey exclaimed, making Perenelle regret the decision instantly.

**-o-**

Perenelle took the subway home, air conditioning hitting her when she entered the traincar, relief visible on her face. She discretely wiped off the beads of sweat that had begun to form on her brow, standing near the door of the typically crowded car, all the seats taken, barely any room to even stand.

When Nico had gone into the living room to speak with Hades she had gotten dressed, putting on denim shorts and a white cotton blouse. She hadn't bothered trying to eavesdrop on Nico's and the god's conversation. Because she was sure Hades would know, and she felt bad, even though she knew that any outrages Hades might have had wouldn't have been her fault, per se.

She and Nico had only locked eyes for a second before she went to the Strand, both probably wanting to postpone the conversation they would inevitably have. She shook her head; she'd really rather not think about it.

And now she had to go to an outdoor rave just because Karey had guilted her into it. And Perenelle felt even guiltier, because she was about to try to guilt Nico into doing something that she was sure he _really _didn't want to do.

**-o-**

Knowing that there would be getting no information from his father, Apollo, or any other gods he could think of any time soon, Nico had resorted to looking through Perenelle's books on mythology. She had shelves on all the different world myths and legends, and he'd picked out as many as he thought would help his cause.

Nico recalled what Persephone had said to him, about Apollo having old enemies, and what his father said about there being things they hadn't expected. What had the goddess said exactly? _Phoebus Apollo has had many enemies over the centuries. Many of which, are still very angry with him, and may have motives that are quite odd indeed. _Nico exhaled at the memory.

He'd been a part of the second war (more than he'd hoped to have been), and he–as all of the other demigods, Roman and Greek alike–thought it was all over. Against all odds, they had again prevailed. And yet, again, the gods were still keeping information from them? Nico knew it had to do with the Doors of Death, the reason his father had been on Olympus so often, attending the Council meetings, but did it mean that some souls had escaped? Some souls that hadn't been recaptured and sent back to the Underworld where they belonged, as they had been told was the case?

He looked first through a book that was called _The Encyclopedia of Mythology _and skipped to the index, looking for Apollo. It named hundreds of pages on which he was mentioned. Nico sighed, flipping to the first, preparing for a long journey.

The words on the pages floated together, and Nico shook his head, closing the book with a large clap and tossing it onto the coffee table along with the others. How Perenelle could read all these books with no trouble was beyone him; perhaps she was one of the few demigods without dyslexia.

Nico decided then that he would tell Perenelle about his conversations with Hades, Persephone, and Apollo, because he was _sure _now that there was truly something greater than just Perenelle's power going on. Someone was after Perenelle, and yet it reeked of being an even larger dilemma than that. He wanted to help her; maybe it was because he was already in too deep, or he had actually begun to like her–he didn't know. But what he did know was that he would need to convince Perenelle to help him. For the sake of her finally realizing that she was in trouble, and because, as much as he hated to admit it, she _could _help him. She was smart and tough and capable, which were qualities that definitely didn't hurt when you were a half-blood.

He heard a lock open in the door then, and he stood, turning around to find Perenelle coming into the apartment. She had her long hair in a braid, her full featured face completely uncovered save for a few strands or shorter hair brushing against her forehead. She carried with her a little messenger's bag, of which he assumed held more books.

"Hey," she said, avoiding his gaze. "Um, I have something I want to tell you." He nodded slightly. "And then I have a question," she added.

"Okay," he agreed, deciding his proposal could wait for later.

"Well," Perenelle started, putting her bag down and sitting on the couch, a few feet from where Nico was standing. "My friend Karey is making me go to this outdoor rave tonight,"

Nico gave her a questioning look.

"And it's on the banks of the Hudson, under the Williamsburg bridge. You know, right on the shore?" Nico nodded. "They aren't supposed to have party's there but they do anyway. But, um, there's a bit of a catch, which is where you come in."

Nico waited.

"Well, there are a lot of warehouses down there, on the shore." She paused, catching his eyes then, and it's the first time he'd seen her look afraid. "A lot of–_abandoned _warehouses."

"Perenelle, what–" Nico began, but Perenelle cut him off.

Perenelle told him everything then. She told him about her meeting with the Muses, what they said about watching her back, and not going near warehouses, which was a delightfully large clue. She told him how Melpomene kept saying she would have a tragic end, and how all the Muses were going on about how Nico could help her, and that was probably the only reason other than her power that Apollo was keeping him around. And then, just for good measure, she told him about the woman in the bookstore that day, the one she was sure she should remember–the one who had given Perenelle such a chilling feeling.

Nico stared at her.

"Anything to say?" Perenelle enabled.

"I'm not sure what to say," Nico responded.

"Well, it had seemed to me that you were rather interested in my mythical dilemmas, and so, well, I don't know." She shrugged. "I guess I was kind of hoping you could help me?"

Nico knew he could gloat right then, tell her he was right, and he knew he was right ever since what Persephone said, and she wasn't nearly as smart as everyone said she was, but after seeing the flash of fear in her eyes–the weakness–he was in no mood to brag.

Nico wasn't one to go to great lengths to help other people. This was partly because he didn't associate much with other people, and partly because it was all too messy; emotions, the lot of it–he knew. But he had always been one to want to get to the bottom of interesting scenarios, questions lacking answers. Annabeth had once noted, with some pride, that he was like her in that way. And to top that, Perenelle herself was far from boring.

So he told her. He told her about what Persephone said, and those odd hints Apollo had dropped, and the massive information Hades had leaked. He told her it all, wondering when the last time he had spoken consecutively for so long with such rapt attention from the listener was. He realized that was one of the things he liked a lot about Perenelle: she loved to talk, but she liked to listen, too.

She stared at him, her blue eyes blown wide, and he figured that must have been what he'd looked like when she'd told him everything–albeit probably less attractive. She shook her head then, laughing without humor.

"So it has to do with the second war," she said, more to herself then him.

"Looks like it."

"I wasn't around during the second war. I got claimed right at the end of it."

"I know."

"I think I should still go to the rave," she stated, with a sort of finality that he grudgingly admired.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nico, we need to get to the bottom of this!" she said, her voice changing its tone, becoming what he could now determine as her going into argument mode. "That's what you've been talking about all this time, right? Who knows, it might not even be those warehouses I should be worried about–but still, if it is, we could actually figure something out."

"We?"

"Oh, yeah," Perenelle said, her voice becoming a bit shy. "That's what I was saying earlier. I was hoping you could come with me."

Nico laughed shortly. "Raves aren't really my thing." He thought for a moment. "Really, big social events in general."

"Gods, Nico, I'm not asking you to come so we can fucking party." She shook her head sadly. "Anyway, I don't like them either. This is me going to a rave after telling Karey no about a million times. _We're _going so we can try to figure this out. The oh-so helpful immortals obviously aren't going to be any help this time around."

Nico thought for a moment. "Fine," he finally said, indignant. Perenelle clapped, smiling gleefully. Nico scowled, his automatic response. "But I'm not talking to your friends, or whatever the fuck. I shall be lurking in the shadows like a normalchild of Hades."

Perenelle grinned. "They're all a bunch of weirdos; you should get along fine."

He scowled some more.

"You really need to stop doing that," Perenelle decided. "All that _fear me _scowling business. You'll mess up your face chemisty–and how will you successfully chase tail _then_, I ask you?"

Nico snorted.

"Get ready, cupcake," Perenelle said, jumping off the back of her couch. "I must pamper thyself now."

**-o-**

"So," Karey said, behind the wheel of her car, turning to face Nico. "You're Perenelle's cousin?"

Perenelle smiled broadly from the passenger seat when Nico shot her a dirty look.

"Yeah," he said, reluctantly, yet not rudely. Perenelle was impressed.

"Hm," Karey mused, swerving around a pickup truck. Perenelle gave her a look. "_What_? Who drives a pickup truck in _New York_?" Karey protested.

"Back to you," Karey said, looking back at Nico. Perenelle had convinced Karey to pick Nico and her up in her car and drive them to the party. Karey wore shorts that she had splattered with paint, and a blue tank top, dozens of bracelets on her arms. It was an odd ensemble, Perenelle thought, but somehow she pulled it off. Perenelle herself wore a patterned sundress, a light black jacket, and sandals. Nico, personally, went with his standard jeans and t-shirt ensemble. "You and Perenelle don't look _anything_ alike," Karey finished, looking back and forth between them.

"It's by marriage," Perenelle said lightly. "My aunt married his father."

"You have an aunt?" Karey said, doubtful.

"Indeed I do," Perenelle said. "I'm shocked that you weren't aware. Does our friendship mean so little to you?"

"Perenelle, I know for a fact that your mother has no siblings," Karey said.

"Duh," Perenelle said, as if it were obvious. "She's my father'ssister."

Nico shook his head.

"I didn't know you knewyour father," Karey said, disbelief clear in her brown eyes.

"Of course I know my father," Perenelle said. "He lives in Norway. His sister, Radene, lives in Iceland. Nico's poor father lived in Greenland, unfortunate soul." Perenelle shook her head pitifully. Nico had his head in one of his hands, looking anywhere but at Karey and Perenelle. "Nico was stuck there with him, until my lovely Aunt Radene came along. Anyway, the two came together, embracing in a love full of, uh, snow and mismatched country names, and _voila_! I have a cousin." Perenelle smiled.

"That is such bullshit," Karey declared.

"I'm hurt that you would insinuate such things," Perenelle said.

Karey looked back at Nico. "Tell me that is all bullshit."

Nico assumed his most impassive face. "Not at all. Radene and my father have been happily married for years."

Perenelle nodded approvingly.

Karey sighed. She'd taken all the back routes, now pulling up to the shore of the dirty Hudson. There were a lot of people, all gathered about, laughing and drinking and dancing ridiculously. There was a band playing horrific-sounding music, each of them standing on garbage cans so the audience could better see them. Most people were wearing glow-in-the-dark bracelets and necklaces, illuminating the crowd. The warehouses were a bit in the distance, right on the water. It looked like an add for all the reasons why you _shouldn't _do LSD.

Nico and her met eyes then. The mood had considerably changed for them, but Karey looked as gleeful as ever. She parked her car on the outskirts, along with a few others, and leapt out of the car, running towards her boyfriend.

Karey, a very rich, Jewish New Yorker, was at the moment dating an also very rich Italian Catholic New Yorker. His name was Mark, and although both of their parents sternly disapproved, wanting them to mix only within their own cultures, they were rather serious about each other. For Karey this was very odd, as she was a serial dater, and proud. Perenelle knew Mark long before Karey had–she'd been going to school with him since the second grade–and therefore she found the whole thing sweet, even though she would never admit to it.

Perenelle and Nico stepped out of the car, Perenelle smiling up at Nico. He knew she loved the night most of all, as did he. She loved the smell, loved the breeze, loved the dark sky, the solitude, the freedom that semed to come along with it. Perenelle then, much to his surprise, linked her arm through his, leading him to the crowd.

**-o-**

The first two hours consisted of Nico drinking many beers, and Perenelle drinking many Red Bulls. It also consisted of Nico instantly being catapulted into Perenelle's group of friends, none of them, girl or guy, caring that he was a new face. They still told the same ridiculously innappropriate stories, occasionally asking him about his relationship with Perenelle. He stuck with the Aunt Radene story.

It also consisted of a girl with blonde dreadlocks (Amy, if Nico remembered right), telling obscene and widely entertaining stories about her "sexcapades", as Perenelle called them, all the while telling Perenelle to hold onto her Red Bull.

They were surrounded by tons of other people, but Nico realized that the only people Perenelle really _knew _here were her little group they were huddled in. Perenelle nodded and smiled to a few of others, but made no effort to leave her clique and speak to anyone else. Although Nico hated herd mentality (mainly because he'd never been invited into it), he understood why she did so; mingling was actually really _hard_.

Karey and her boyfriend spoke to each other most of the time, and Nico caught Perenelle studying them, a pleased look on her face. A girl named Angelica (whom he remembered was the girl Perenelle had referred to as her best friend) began talking to Nico, and she told him a lot of things about Perenelle that he didn't know. He found out that her mother lived in Brooklyn, and that Perenelle visited her whenever she was there, which was often. He learned that she wanted to become a teacher, and what she was majoring in. He found out that the fact that she was here was amazing in its own right, because although she got along well with people, she tended to like books more than them.

When Angelica began talking to someone else, and he turned to ask Perenelle if she wanted to check out the warehouses, he learned something else.

She was no longer there.

**-o-**

Perenelle had seen the woman, over by the warehouses. She was too far away to determine whether she was old or young, but she was definitely female. Perenelle could tell that much from the glow of the party, the lights from the bridge, and Manhattan across the river.

Perenelle unnoticably drifted away from her friends, trying to see what the woman was doing by herself, so far from the rest of the people. There was a sort of glow about her, too, Perenelle; like an aura, and it was pulsing like a neon sign.

She drifted closer to the woman, far away from the party, walking slowly but surely. The music wasn't as loud, the lights not as bright. She was being pulled–she had to see who this woman was. In that moment, nothing else seemed to matter much anymore.

Perenelle hugged herself then–it was suddenly very cold. But she kept walking, squinting, trying to make out the woman. She was just...standing there. She wore what looked like a long white dress.

And then, suddenly, the woman fell. Collapsed, and stayed that way, completely still on the ground. Perenelle gasped, and began jogging towards the woman. When she reached her, she saw long, dark hair, and a flowing white dress, just like she'd thought. Her skin was tanned deeply, but Perenelle could not see her face for her hair was falling across it, obscuring it from view.

"Hello?" Perenelle said, a little desperately, kneeling beside her. "_Hello_?" she repeated. When again there was no response, she began to hoist the woman into her lap, attempting to turn her over so she could see her face. It was difficult, because although the woman was thin, she was tall, and she was supporting none of her own weight.

Before she could fully turn the woman over, the woman grabbed Perenelle's arm–_hard_. Perenelle gasped, wrenching away, but the woman's grasp was strong. Perenelle felt a draining sensation then, as if the woman were somehow sucking the life out of her, and she was suddenly very, very tired...

And then she saw her face.

Perenelle was as awake as she could be then, completely jolted out of her lull. She looked up quickly, eyes wide, and saw what was on this part of the shore.

The warehouses.

Perenelle lifted her arm that the woman wasn't gripping then, and punched the woman square in the chest with all her might. The woman cried out momentarily, letting go of Perenelle for a second, which was just long enough for her to get to her feet.

She tried to run the other direction, back to Nico, back to the party, but it was like the wind was fighting her, pushing her backwards, and she fell. She hit her head when she fell, and in that moment she hated herself for being so stupid. But before she could process any further thoughts, she felt her eyes closing, her senses dimming, and**–**worse yet–her mind giving in.

Just as she was drifting away, she heard the woman cry out in surprise. There was a thump, a gasp, and a harsh sound, like a sudden gust of wind, and then it was silent. The only noises the soft waves lapping and the sounds of the party.

"Perenelle?" It was Nico's voice. She felt his hand on her arm, and she shook off her stupor, ignoring the tremendous ache in her skull.

"It–it was her," Perenelle said, shakily, sitting up. "The one from the bookshop. I know where I saw her before now–I–I remember. She's the one from the night I passed out. She's the one I tried to heal right before you moved in with me. It's her."

Nico stared at her, glancing back at the warehouse. "Well she's gone now. She disappeared."

Perenelle nodded, and suddenly there was a sound like the wailing of sirens, and Perenelle realized the police were evacuating the party. She laughed shortly, and said, "Let's just go. Now. Please."

Nico nodded, and hauled her to the feet, leading her into the shadows with him. On the way to the bottom of the bridge, a very shadowy area indeed, Perenelle stopped suddenly, when a stray kitten wandered out from under the bridge. Before Nico could interject, Perenelle had scooped it up in her arms, giving him a look that suggested he make no comment.

And then, the shadows bent around them, and Perenelle felt as though she were going to be sick.

* * *

><p><strong>Like it? Review!<strong>


	6. Tales, Tea, and Sorcery

_**Author's Note: **_Dear Reviewers: Nico did NOT knock the lady in the white dress out. You shall find out what actually happened at the beginning of this here chapter. As was obvious, Perenelle was out of comission during the last part of that ordeal, so what she heard was really not much to go by. Also, Perenelle, as you will find out more of, is pretty tough, and a good fighter. And remember what I said about the wind pushing her back, the odd attractive aura...? Do ponder.

_**Warning: **_I suppose I should start these now, as this fic is gaining some new elements, starting this chapter. A little bit of sexual content shall be occuring this chapter, but it's not nearly as graphic as some things that may (will) happen. Also, as you guys have surely picked up on by this point, there's a lot of fairly graphic language.

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or The Heroes of Olympus.

* * *

><p><em>I hear in my mind, all these voices<em>

_I hear in my mind, all these words_

_I hear in my mind, all this music_

_And it breaks my heart, and it breaks my heart_

_- Fidelity_ by Regina Spektor

**-o-**

"God, I hate that," Perenelle said, as she and Nico sat on the marble steps of the New York Public Library. She took off her sandals, setting them gingerly beside her, and began to rub her ankle, which she had twisted during her ordeal with the mysterious woman just twenty minutes prior.

"Hate what?" Nico said, leaning his elbows back against the steps, long legs in front of him. "Being rescued gallantly?"

"Precisely," Perenelle responded. "I swear that bitch was controlling the wind or something. I started running, and it was like the forces of nature were plotting against me and attempting to cause my demise!" She threw her hands up in frustration.

Nico smiled. Despite his passive demeanor, he was still rather rattled. When he'd realized Perenelle was gone, he'd looked through the crowd for a few minutes before finding her. She'd been heading over to the warehouses, towards what seemed to be a woman in the distance. When the woman had dropped, she had run towards her, dropping to her knees besides the woman. That's when Nico had begun to approach.

He'd seen the woman grab Perenelle's arm as a he got closer. Perenelle had seen the woman's face, and the expression she got had alarmed Nico so much that he had begun to run towards them. Perenelle had punched the woman in the chest then, rather impressively. She'd begun to run, and Nico had to admit, it did seem like the wind was literally pushing Perenelle backwards, preventing her from escaping. That was when Nico had begun to sprint.

Right before he reached them, Perenelle had fallen, her head hitting the ground so hard he could swear her heard a sickening _crack_. She'd gone so still then that if Nico hadn't had the ability to sense that her soul was still intact, he might have thought she was dead. He'd gotten one glimpse at the woman, whom he had pushed away from Perenelle before she had literally dissapeared–as if she had become a part of the wind and blown away. She was a beautiful woman, but her expression had been anything but.

It'd only taken a second to wake Perenelle then, and just a second after that the police had shown up, evacuating the party, something that had been bound to happen sooner or later, but felt cruelly timed in that moment.

And then, the cherry on top to an extraordinarily creepy night, a cat ran into their path during their escape. It had a coat of red fur (_auburn, _as Perenelle had corrected,) and looked no older than a few weeks. Perenelle had scooped it up, silencing Nico with a look, and they had walked into the shadows. Perenelle had had only one request before they left: "Not the apartment."

So he'd brought them to the New York Public Library instead, figuring Perenelle would approve. She had more than approved, it turned out, smiling broadly at him when they had arrived, with none of the smugness or sarcasm that was usually in her smile.

They sat on the steps now, Perenelle massaging her own feet and the kitten (whom she'd insisted on naming Ginger, for a multitude of reasons) lying on its stomach contentedly in Perenelle's lap, one paw hanging off her knee.

Nico had told Perenelle everything she'd missed while she'd been partially unconcious during the last fifteen minutes, and Perenelle had listened dutifully, showing her dismay over being a damsel in distress of sorts once he was done talking.

"I think you're right," Nico said, glancing over at her. "She was definitely controlling the wind. That's how she got away, too; it was like she literally became a _part _of it. Maybe she's a sorceress," he suggested.

"Like Circe?" Perenelle said.

"Yeah," Nico said. "Or Medea."

"They just tend to be bad in general, don't they?" Perenelle said. "You know what? When my crazy sorceress was at the Strand she bought a book called _A History of Women Healers._" She shook her head, silently cursing herself it appeared.

"Well, she is obviously interested in you," Nico said. "But not all sorceresses are bad. Some people actually believe that your namesake, Perenelle Flamel, was a sorceress. And she seems like she wasn't too awful."

Perenelle smiled in a way that made Nico do a double take.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Perenelle shrugged, still smiling. "You're just the first guy I've met in a while that has contributed intellectually to a conversation who isn't twice my age."

Nico shrugged. "I've been looking through your books."

Perenelle smiled slightly, but remained silent. "What are we going to do about this?" she finally said.

Nico ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. "Well, I think it's pretty safe to assume that she has some sort of home base at those warehouses."

"Yeah. And if what your father and Persephone said is anything to go by, she, like most people, has some sort of issue with the gods."

"And she's been trying to get at you for a while," Nico added.

"Exactly. And, I'd assume that she is supposed to be dead." Perenelle and Nico looked at each other for a moment. "Did you get any weird Death Boy vibes from her?"

Nico shook his head. "I only saw her for a second, which wasn't nearly long enough to pick anything up. But you're probably right–"

"Naturally."

"And she escaped during the second war," Nico continued, ignoring her. "When the Doors of Death were open."

"Yeah, but why does she care about _me_?" Perenelle said.

"Maybe she wants to use you as some sort of bargaining chip," Nico said. "Against the gods. You're kind of important, you know."

Perenelle shrugged, but didn't say anything.

"She's obviously the one who was sending you the prophecy death threats," Nico said. "But she's probably not going to do that anymore, now that you've seen her."

"I really hope not," Perenelle said. "It was seriously cutting into my reading time."

"I think we're going to need an expert opinion on this one," Nico said, again ignoring her.

"From whom?" Perenelle demanded. "It's not like the gods are gonna help us."

"Obviously," Nico said. "I wasn't talking about any of them."

"Could you maybe be a bit more mysterious?" Perenelle said.

"She might not do it," Nico said, more to himself then her. "I don't even think she's in the country right now."

"Perhaps you could answer my question," Perenelle suggested.

"Wait, _is _she even in the country?" Nico said.

"Who?" Perenelle demanded.

"Percy and Annabeth would probably know," he murmured.

"And I am talking to myself right now," Perenelle muttered.

"We might have to wait a bit, though," Nico said. "I'm sure she'll help."

"Nico!" Perenelle demanded. "Who in all of Tolstoy are you talking about?"

Nico stood then, still ignoring her, and stretched slightly. As Perenelle looked up at him he sort of reminded her of a panther for a moment–all black and sleek and long and lean. She found her eyes drifting farther down his body when he stretched his arms up, causing him to reveal a patch of flat muscle on his lower stomach, right above the top of his low-riding jeans. If she looked slightly farther still, she could just see the top of his boxers, and a bit of dark, course hair–

"Perenelle?" Nico said, and she looked up at him then, finding that she was blushing ferociously. Nico looked at her curiously for a moment, before stretching his hand down to her, and helping her up. She took it, and he hauled her to her feet with a surprising amount of stength, which Perenelle had really not been expecting.

"What, do you want to go back to the apartment now?" she said, looking up at him. He really was ridiculously tall, she thought idly.

"We don't have to," he said, looking down at her. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Perenelle said immediately.

"Okay, well, we could pick something up or go somewhere, or I could–"

"Better idea," Perenelle interrupted, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down the steps after her. "As long as you're living with me, you shall endeaver in many quests for food. However, tonight, we're keeping it simple."

**-o-**

"Who eats pickles with _yogurt_?" Nico demanded, holding the jar of pickles she had just handed him, along with numerous other food products she'd been piling in his arms.

Perenelle glanced back at him, smiling. "Me."

"Maybe I shouldn't be surprised," Nico mused, "considering your other odd habits. Oh, speaking of, why do you leave open candy wrappers on your window sill?"

"To lure the roaches out," Perenelle said mechanically.

"And why do you use baby shampoo?" Nico said, having wondered for a couple of weeks why she had a bottle of Jergen's in her shower when it seemed there were never any babies around.

"Bro," Perenelle said, turning on him suddenly in the bodega aisle, stopping him dead in his tracks. "That shit is _magic_. Feel how soft my hair is." She took a long stand of hair in her hand, and brought it forward. Nico, knowing there was no way out of this other than to placate her, adjusted all the food items to one arm, and reached a long fingered hand out, brushing her hair.

"Soft," he said, nodding.

"I know," Perenelle said, smiling broadly and turning away again.

Nico had learned that Perenelle's idea of grocery shopping was going to any old bodega and picking out all the foods she liked, completely randomly, and buying them all. And he had wondered why her fridge was always empty.

"So," Perenelle started, "are you going to tell me who's help you're going to try to get? I mean, I have some theories, but..." She trailed off.

"Yeah, sure," Nico said. "Do you know the Oracle?"

"No," Perenelle said. "Is it a computer program?"

Nico rolled his eyes. "I figure Rachel will be able to help, at least if you can tell her a little bit about the prophecy death threats your mystery woman used to send you." He paused. "Also, she is pretty smart. She'll probably have some sound theories."

"You're on a first name basis with the Oracle?" Perenelle said, turning around so she could look at Nico, walking backwards.

Nico shrugged. "She's friends with Percy and Annabeth, I'm friends with Percy and Annabeth..." He shrugged again. "It all comes together, I guess."

Perenelle put on a shocked face. "You have friends?"

Nico ignored her.

"You think she's out of the country?" Perenelle went on.

"Yeah. She mentioned something about going to Florence to look at the architecture, and how happy she was that her father wasn't being pissy about it. But I know she'll be back before summer's over–she's going back to college."

"Where? NYU?"

"I can't remember."

"Chock full of good use you are," Perenelle said. "How old is she?"

"Twenty-seven."

"I don't want to sound like a snooty nineteen-year-old here," Perenelle began, "but isn't she a little old for college?"

"She's Rachel Elizabeth Dare," Nico said, as if that explained everything. "She does what she wants, when she wants." He smiled slightly. "You two will either hate each other, or absolutely love each other."

"If by that you are implying she is very much like myself, then I'll go with love." Perenelle smiled. "What couldn't I love about myself?" She sighed. "I can't _wait _for clones."

"Anyway," Nico continued, "in the mean time we should keep working on your power. Your sorceress will probably lay low for a while after that encounter–if she's smart. So, it gives us enough time to wait for Rachel to get back, and to actually do what we're supposed to be doing."

Perenelle nodded, face serious. Nico realized that if there was one thing about Perenelle he really liked, it was that she had the ability to go from laughing like a maniac one minute, to devising a stategy the next. She was silly, yet reasonable. Logical and unpredictable. Boisterous and calm. Quiet and loud. Really, she was an utter contradiction unto herself.

She put on this air of arrogance, and she _was_ arrogant, Nico knew. She knewshe was smart. She knewshe was talented. However, he could sometimes see the insecurity she tried not to broadcast too well–how whenever she wore a skirt she would fidget, how even though he thought her hair was pretty she was always fussing with it, how she looked like she wanted to hit herself for saying something ordinary, or below a par with her standard of being above average intelligence.

And even if she annoyed him to no end, he couldn't really see anything _wrong _with her.

Of all the people he'd met, Nico figured she was one of the few who had a right to be arrogant.

**-o-**

The passing of July into August was a fairly uneventful month, at least for Perenelle and Nico's standards of living.

Nico had been right; the mystery warehouse woman had made no more apperances, and so he and Perenelle had gone on doing what they were actually supposed to be doing. They were both happy to see that it was actually working; Perenelle's power was slowly but surely being pushed back. Perenelle found that the pain in her joints and muscles that she had become so accustomed to was slowly dissapearing along with it.

After the incident at the warehouses, and Perenelle's short fight with the woman, Nico and her had also agreed that she should brush up on her fighting skills. She had of course received training at Camp Half Blood, and she was actually an okay fighter naturally (Perenelle said that all New Yorkers were born with the ability to get into a street fight and have a good chance of winning), but she could still use a refresher on some techniques and moves that could help her in future events.

They found that when they weren't trying to punch each other in the face (during their training, that is), or were arguing about how the other one took up all the hot water in the shower, they got along pretty well. They would order in food and watch all the old films Perenelle had on DVD (for many reasons, the two main ones being that Perenelle didn't have cable, and they both liked old films).

And, they talked. This may not have sounded like much to anyone else, but for both Perenelle and Nico, it was a new and exciting prospect. For Nico, the only girls he ever really _talked _to were Rachel and Annabeth, and that was usually just full of snark and sarcasm. Of course, his and Perenelle's conversations contained plenty of sarcasm and snark, but they also talked about other things. Like how you'll never meet people quite like the ones in NYC; how it went from sweat and gardens to snow and sharp winds in those few months, transforming the city so completely. They'd talk about how Ginger would drape herself on random pieces of furniture and look around like she was guarding the place. They would talk about history and books and Europe and Audrey Hepburn and everything they had anything to say about.

That was what was so exciting for Perenelle. Although she had plenty of male friends (gay and straight and bisexual alike) and she talked to them about numerous topics, and laughed with them, she found that she had never known a man she could talk to on such a large varietyof subjects. At least, one who didn't act like it was a chore to listen and respond.

So as Perenelle's power slowly disinegrated–and she actually managed to kick Nico squarely in the knee without him grabbing her leg and having her hop around the roof on one leg while he laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen for five minutes straight–they actually came to like each other. To the point where neither of them would get ultra defensive when the other asked something even remotely personal. To the point where on one late day in August, Perenelle got off the phone, running a hand through her hair, clearly exasperated, and Nico had asked her what was wrong.

To which she had responded, "My mother wants me to go over for a visit. Want to come with me?"

**-o-**

Nico wasn't sure if he decided to go because he was sure that Pernelle would force him to anyway, or because he was curious.

From what Nico could gather by Perenelle's brief history of her mother, she was eccentric, irresponsible, and yet quite overprotective of her only child. She called Perenelle often, and they saw each other even more often.

From what else he was told, he knew that her name was Anna Carolina Adler, and she lived in a predominately Muslim neighborhood on Atlantic Avenue. Her best friend was a woman from Afghanistan named Fatima. Her other friends were all gay men. She was thirty-eight years old. She was a college graduate.

And, she was quite unorthodox.

"Look," Perenelle said as they walked down the block from the subway towards her mother's apartment building, "my mom's not quite ordinary."

"Neither are we," Nico said.

"Yeah, but we kind of have an excuse."

"So does she."

Perenelle groaned. "You are making this so difficult," she muttered.

They arrived at Perenelle's mother's building in a matter of seconds, Perenelle recieving many greetings from Arabian, African American and Caucasian people alike. They were quickly buzzed into a simple, slightly shabby, ten story apartment building, climbing the stairs for five flights before stopping at an ordinary looking black door.

"Really, Nico. She's going to practically interview you," Perenelle said as she turned her back towards the door, putting a hand on Nico's chest to stop him in his tracks. Their faces were close as Pernelle looked up at Nico, and Nico looked down at Perenelle. Close enough that he could feel her hot breath on his cheek when she continued speaking. "She's going to assume _things, _and she has no idea exactly what you're helping me with, or getting rid of my power or anything. So please, just–"

"I don't assume, Ellie. I simply observe, gather information, and accuse."

Perenelle swung around to face the open doorway, holding the hand that had been on Nico's chest to her own as if it were an explosive. Nico looked over Perenelle's head at the woman who stood in the doorway.

She was gorgeous, simply put. And she immediately reminded Nico of Perenelle. She had the same straight, slighty upturned, aristocratic nose. Her eyes were large, although a deep shade of green instead of blue, which Nico now realized Perenelle had inherited from Apollo. Her dark blond hair, the exact same shade as Perenelle's, hung a bit past her shoulders in the same mess of soft waves and curls. She had full lips, though not as much so as Perenelle's–another feature she seemed to have extracted from Apollo. Her cheekbones were more prominent, unlike Perenelle, but there was a sort of likeness in their bone structures all together; sharp collarbone, decent neck length, strong chin. Their body types were similar when it came to their curves, however Anna was taller than Perenelle, her legs longer. She wore a green t-shirt and a black skirt that went to her knees. Her feet were bare, and her toenails were painted a sparkling green. She had an air to her that immediately made Nico feel as if he were in the presence of a teenager, not a woman in her late-thirties.

"Mom!" Perenelle said, her voice a higher pitch than usual.

"Ellie," Anna said in a cool voice, although she pulled Perenelle into a hug and kissed her on the cheek.

They broke the hug after a few seconds, and Anna turned her gaze towards Nico, eyeing him curiously. "Hello," she said finally, in a pleasant voice.

"Hi," Nico responded as steadily as he could under her stare. There was something about the way she looked at him–like she was analyzing every pore and limb and movement and then using them to draw some greater conclusion–that made Nico uncomfortable.

"Oh, um, Mom, this is Nico di Angelo." She swallowed. "My...friend."

"Friend," Anna repeated, looking Nico up and down again. "_Boy_friend?"

"If in those terms you mean he is my friend who is also a boy, then yes," Perenelle said quickly. Nico tried to keep his face as steady and composed as possible.

"Hm," Anna said, leaning against the doorframe, continue to look at Nico as if he were a blueprint. "He's not gay."

"Good to know–I was on the fence about it," Perenelle said drily.

"Well, it's obvious! He'd be better dressed if her were." She giggled in a girlish manner. "Not that you're _badly _dressed," she said to Nico then.

"Look, Mom, he's just a friend," Pernelle said, her face utterly mortified at this point.

"He's a demigod," Anna stated.

"How can you tell?" Perenelle asked, skipping all formalities.

Anna shrugged. "He glows, sort of. Like he's simply something..._more_. Just like you do."

"Like an aura?" Perenelle asked.

"Yes, I suppose," Anna said. "Although his is darker than yours. And even stronger, actually." Her voice turned curious, calculating, and she tilted her head slightly, still looking straight at Nico. "Your parent is someone very important, I'm guessing."

Nico swallowed, quite like Perenelle had minutes before, and said, "Yeah, it's–"

"No, don't tell me!" Anna demanded. "I want to figure it out."

Perenelle rolled her eyes, but Nico simply waited, trying not to fidget.

"Well, it is quite dark, and considering how strong it is I'm guessing one of the Big Three, which could only mean..." she pondered for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Hades."

Nico nodded, and Anna clapped her hands together once, as if congratulating herself. Perenelle groaned.

"Oh, lighten up, Ellie," Anna said, clapping a hand on Pernelle's shoulder. "You're seventeen after all."

"Nineteen," Perenelle corrected.

"Same thing." Anna turned on her heel, gesturing for them both to follow her into the apartment. Nico meet Perenelle's gaze as they followed her in. _My own mother doesn't know my age,_ she mouthed, and he smiled.

The apartment was simple. The kitchen was on the right of a large living space, clean enough. Further into the room was antique looking furniture, and a lot of books and papers; sort of like Perenelle's apartment, but considerably more cluttered. There was a door to the left of the kitchen that Nico assumed was the bedroom, and to the right of the kitchen another, which was halfway open to reveal a very white bathroom.

"Nico, would you like some tea?" Anna asked, stopping at the counter in her kitchen while Perenelle sat on one of the stools. Nico stood near Perenelle, facing Anna across the counter.

"That depends," Nico said.

"On what exactly?"

"What kind of tea?"

"Hm..." Anna mused. "Earl Grey?"

Nico scoffed

"Green Tea?"

"You have to be kidding," Nico said.

"I was. It was a test," Anna responded drily.

"Did I pass?"

"Depends. Why don't you like Green Tea?"

"It tastes like grass."

"Some people would argue that it tastes like grass from the south of _France._"

"Is that supposed to pursuade me?"

Anna smiled broadly.

"English Breakfast, perhaps," she suggested then.

"Now you're talking," Nico said.

"Actually, I'm not," Anna said. "Out," she explained.

"I'll have water, then."

"Wise choice."

Nico looked over at Perenelle as Anna poured three glasses of water, to find she was staring at him, chin on the floor.

"What?" he asked.

"How..." she laughed shortly. "How do you know all of that? About tea, I mean?"

"A lot of long winters with Persephone," he explained.

"Ah," Perenelle said, setting her head down on the counter as if she were now very tired.

"So, Nico," Anna said pleasantly, handing a cool glass of water to Nico and another to Perenelle. "I'm assuming you and my daughter are fucking."

Nico and Perenelle simultaneously choked on their drinks.

"What?" Anna demanded, setting her glass down on the counter. "It seems to me the only possible answer."

"_Mother_!" Perenelle said through gritted teeth, "Nico and I are not...doing _that_."

"But you are sharing a bed, aren't you?" Anna said, Nico clearing his throat and Perenelle looking like she'd rather take her chances jumping out the fifth-floor window than continue this conversation.

"How–how did you know that?" Perenelle demanded quickly.

"I didn't," Anna said. "But, well, now I do." When seeing the expression of utter terror on both of their faces, she smiled sweetly, sipping her water, and saying, "Don't worry. I really don't care."

Perenelle groaned, and Nico shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Nico," Anna went on, her tone clearly displaying that a very long series of questions was coming, "would you consider yourself certifiably insane?"

"I thought crazy people can't know they're crazy," Nico said. "So if I said no, there's a fifty percent chance I'm wrong."

"Fair point. Where were you born?"

"Washington D.C."

"What's your mother's name?"

"Maria di Angelo."

"How old is she?"

"She's dead," Nico said, waving off what looked like a protest coming from Perenelle, probably trying to tell her mother to stop asking questions. "But I think she'd be about one-hundred."

This was the first thing that caused Anna to pause.

"Nico. How old are you?"

"Technically?"

"Is there another response?"

"I'm twenty-three," he paused. "But _technically_..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Anna said, though her tone wasn't very reassuring.

"No, it's okay." He ran a hand through his hair, more from the sheer impossibility of what he was about to say than from annoyance. "Technically I'm eighty or ninety something."

Anna nodded as if she heard people who looked no older than twenty-five say they were actually elderly every day.

"How did your mother die?"

"_Mom_," Perenelle warned.

"It's okay," he repeated. "She died in an explosion."

"Tragic," Anna said slowly, green eyes wide, and it wasn't in the way that people usually say something like that, a word with such meaning, usually colored with sarcasm or hyberbole. She said it like she truly believed it was the correct word to describe the event. "I'm so sorry."

Nico fidgeted slightly. "Thanks."

"Considering this rather unorthodox timeline you've given me, I'm assuming it was around World War Two?"

"During," he confirmed.

"Did she die in a war bomb explosion, or something like that?"

"Something like that." Nico looked down at his hands, circling the perspirating glass, and found they were shaking slightly. His hair was falling in his eyes, obscuring his face from view, and he was glad, because he had absolutely no idea what his face was showing, and wasn't sure he wanted to. He was sure, however, that he didn't want to risk the chance of anyone else seeing. "It's more complicated than that."

"A long story?"

"Yes."

"I have all day,"

"_Mom_," Perenelle said again, her voice exasperated and borderline rude. Nico noted it was more like how someone would speak to a sister, not their mother.

"_Perenelle_," Anna said. "If Nico doesn't want to talk about it, he can tell me."

Perenelle was about to protest again, but Nico cut her off, telling Anna everything. _Everything_. He was ready to stop at any time, but Anna's interest was completely devoted to his tale, her eyes never leaving his face, barely blinking. When he noticed that Perenelle, too, was listening intently, even though she knew his story more or less, he found he was telling them both, looking at both of them, speaking to both of them. He told them his entire life story, as it pertained to finding out who he was and where he came from and all of the whos and the wheres and the whens and the whys. When he was done, and they were both looking at him, their faces a mess of emotions, so many that Nico didn't even bother attempting to decipher it all, he realized he'd never spoken like that before. He'd never spoken so consecutively and without interruption. And he'd certainly never done so about _himself. _And, most jarring of all, he realized he'd never told anyone about his life. Percy, Annabeth and Rachel had figured it out for themselves, and he'd answered their questions at times–vaguely, at that. Chiron and the gods knew all about it of course, and the campers had some inklings of the story. But he himself had never actually _told _anyone.

He didn't like speaking about himself, because if he really thought about it, actually brought himself into account, judging without biase, he found he didn't particularly like himself. He found that for some reason, of which he really didn't even understand completely, he was ashamedof his life. But after he told them everything and voiced his tale he found that he felt... _good_.

However, he wasn't sure what to feel, much less think, when he heard Perenelle–so quietly, so practically inaudibly that he was sure he was the only one that heard her–murmur, "Oh, Nico." He didn't know what the emotions filling her voice were, but they were definitely varied and abundant, for her words sounded heavy. They were loaded, those two simple words, and he found himself staring at her for a few moments longer than necessary.

"Well, Nico that's all..." Anna exhaled. "That's quite a life."

Nico could only nod.

And then, Anna said, "So. Why don't you like Earl Grey tea?"

**-o-**

"Demigod dreams," Chiron said, speaking to a group of half-bloods that had only recently arrived at Camp Half-Blood, "show more than normal mortal dreams. They can often times show a past memory, something that is happening right this moment, or even predict the future. They are quite common, and although they can be helpful and informative, may be a nuisance. Most half-bloods complain of them being bothersome, for numerous reasons."

The children–who had only recently learned what they were, how they were different, from what they descended–sat cross legged in front of the centaur, listening with wide eyes and rapt expressions.

"Sometimes, these dreams, being of memories, occuring events, or the future, appear to have absolutely nothing to do with yourself. However, if you have one of these dreams, you can be sure that it is important to you in some way. No matter what, your dream has some relevance to yourself, one way or another. They are given usually to help guide you."

The children waited while he paused, looking up at the stars, so bright and powerful in the camp that Chiron often wondered how anyone could ever look at them and doubt the existance of something more.

"These dreams," Chiron went on, "they are special. They are..." He looked to the stars once more. "They are gifts from the gods."

**-o-**

_Perenelle rolls over in her bed, the sheets cool on her bare legs, her cheek relaxed on her soft pillow. Her bedroom is dark. A cold air, though not uncomfortable, settling over everything. _

_Nico lay on his back beside her, his chest bare and uncovered by the white sheets_–_they only cover him from the waist down. His eyes are open, dark orbs staring at the ceiling. His lips are parted slightly. His chest rises and falls gently, steadily. _

_Perenelle rolls onto her side right next to him, her torso touching his, the entire front of her body pressed against the side of his. She places one hand gently on his chest, tangling in a bit of the dark hair there, and she moves one leg on top of him, wrapping it around his waist. She feels one of his hands go to her leg, running down the length of her thigh to her calve, and back up again. She feels her entire body tingle, from her toes to the hairs on the top of her head._

_She leans her face towards his, putting her lips by his ear. When she moves them to speak, they graze his ear, and she swears she can feel him shiver. Slowly and deliberately, she whispers, "What do you want for your birthday?"_

_To which he responds, his voice low, "You."_

_She slides the leg that she has on top of him farther across his body, until it's on the other side of him, and she pulls herself up with it, until she's straddling him. _

_He places his hands on her hips, easily and surely. Slowly, as she feels him positioning himself under her, she leans her torso down, over him, so that her face is hovering above his. Their lips brush, Perenelle's hair falling like a curtain around them. And when he enters her, causing her to gasp into his mouth, she's not the least bit embarrassed._

* * *

><p><strong>For any of you who for some odd reason didn't put it together, that last part was a <strong>_**dream**_**. I'm sure you all realize that, though. Well, I hope that was a good chapter, and there is a chapter that I am very excited to write, coming up! Review!**


	7. The Raven

**_Author's Note: _**I am so sorry that this chapter took so long! I really just got sidetracked, but to make up for it, it is the longest chapter yet, at over 8,000 words! I got great reviews for the last chapter and I am happy to report on two things in particular: you all love Perenelle's mother, and you are very curious about the dream at the end of the chapter. Good, this means I have you right where I want you! You did all want to know, however, whose dream it was, and although I believe I answered most of you via PM, I shall say it again here: it was Perenelle's dream. I'll leave you with that for now. Also, Karey's coming back into the mix, as is her boyfriend Mark, who are both important characters. A new character in the mix as well. Enjoy!

**_Disclaimer: _**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or The Heroes of Olympus.

* * *

><p>"<em>I have never belonged wholeheartedly to a country, a state, nor to a circle of friends..."<em>

_-_Albert Einstein

**-o-**

Perenelle had believed that she was finally used to people she had never met randomly appearing in her apartment.

However, when she opened her front door to find a girl with flaming red hair sitting on a wooden stool, her back to Perenelle, paintbrush in hand and a canvas in front of her, Perenelle's scream proved otherwise.

"Oh!" exclaimed the red-haired girl, swivelling around on her stool. "I'm sorry! Nico said I could come here whenever today, and bring my painting with me, and I found the key under the mat, but I know I probably should have told _you _first, and— " The girl broke off, obviously flustered, and smiled apologetically at Perenelle, who had her back against the door, still recovering from the shock. Finally, the red haired girl put out her hand and said, "I'm Rachel Elizabeth Dare."

Perenelle smiled back, and said, "Yeah, I know. I was just—surprised. I'm Perenelle Adler." And she returned the handshake.

Rachel continued to smile. "Yeah, I know."

Perenelle dropped her bag to the ground and approached Rachel's easel slowly, looking at the painting that was forming there, close to completion.

"I just got back in town yesterday," Rachel explained as Perenelle came closer, "and when Nico said I should come over today he said I could bring anything I was painting to keep busy with and that you wouldn't mind—I hope he was right."

"No, he was right, I definitely don't mind." She looked over at Rachel and smiled again. "My minor is Art History."

"Oh, I'm taking a class on that in the fall. Do you paint, too?"

Perenelle shook her head. "I can admire art, but, much to my own dismay, can't create it." She thought for a moment. "Where are you going to college again? Nico mentioned it but he couldn't remember where."

"Columbia," Rachel replied promptly.

"Me toe," Perenelle said, smiling. "Maybe we'll have some classes together." Rachel smiled back, and the tension was eased a bit, although they were definitely not past the initial awkwardness yet. Perenelle looked back to the painting, then, not sure what else to say.

It was nothing if not striking. Rachel had been rough with it, for it was obvious that if you touched your hand to the canvas you would be able to feel the sharp ridges and edges of protruding paint, but it had clearly not been accidental, either. It was dark, all in black and shades of deep blue, and at its center was a large, black raven. The raven's wings were folded in on itself, and its head was bent so the profile of its beak was harsh and vivid. It took up practically all of the canvas, everything behind it pitch black, although its clawed feet were clutching a branch. Every feather on the bird looked real, as if you could actually feel the slickness of them if you were to reach out and touch it. The raven's eyes were a startling shade of yellow; the only burst of color in the entire painting.

"It's beautiful," Perenelle said truthfully.

Rachel smiled again. "Well, it's one of my darker pieces, but I guess most of the things I paint nowadays are pretty dark...Anyway, now I'm just layering. It's done, really."

"I love it," Perenelle said sincerely, smiling at Rachel again.

Rachel full-out grinned now. "Thanks."

There was another awkward silence then, the kind that Perenelle absolutely hated, and she was relieved to say the least when Rachel, obviously one to take situations like this head on, said, "So...what do you want to do now?"

**-o-**

Perenelle continued to laugh hysterically while Rachel choked on her beverage, all due to something Perenelle has said five long minutes ago.

"Okay, okay," Rachel said, laughing between words, as she wiped her mouth with a napkin, holding her other hand in the air as if surrendering. "I think it's time to talk about what we both _really _want to talk about."

"And that would be?" Perenelle asked, smiling. She and Rachel both sat on the couch, cross legged and comfortable. The coffee table was loaded with containers of Chinese food they had gotten a couple of hours prior, multiple two liters of soda, and an assortment of beer. If there was one thing Perenelle loved about New York City, it was that you could run down the block to the bodega to get the nonsense snacks (chips, microwavable foods, soda, etc.) while your partner in crime ordered food from whatever delicious, quick, and affordable (enough) restaurant you two fancied at that moment in time. Which is exactly what Perenelle and Rachel had done.

It turned out they had much more in common than the college they were attending, tastes in art, and association with mythical beings. They had a practically identical sense of humor, and taste in other forms of entertainment. And then, of course, there was always what Rachel would bring up next.

"Nico, of course," she said easily, diving her chopsticks into the container she was holding currently, which Perenelle believed contained fried dumplings.

"Ah," Perenelle said, uncomfortable.

Rachel's mouth formed an O. "Is that an unspoken secretI detect, Ms. Adler?" she inquired, trademark sparkle in her green eyes.

"Of coursenot," Perenelle said flippantly. "What about him?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd contribute to the conversation, I must say," Rachel said, feigning disappointment.

"I'm sure you know him much better than I do," Perenelle said. "It's only been about a month and a half now."

"Yeah, but you've been _living _with him for a month and a half," Rachel countered. "_Living with him_. This entails sharing your apartment, which, as charming as it is, is nevertheless small. Which thereforeentails sharing everything in your apartment. Like your kitchen and living room and shower. Which furthermore entails many possible events. Like, for instance, seeing each other naked—"

"Okay, okay! I get the point," Perenelle said, crossing her chopsticks and holding them in front of her as if to ward Rachel off.

"So?" Rachel said, leaning forward. "Come on! Anything? I've heard some rumors up on Olympus, but you never know what's actually true when you're hearing it out of the mouth of some minor goddess." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Oh, gods," Perenelle said. "Rumors are flying about, are they?" Rachel nodded. "Well, then? What's being said up in the clouds?"

Rachel smiled broadly, shifting slightly, but not uncomfortably. More excitedly. "Where do I even _begin_? Firstly, there's the one about you two getting a little _too _close on the roof—"

"Complete exaggeration!" Perenelle interjected.

"And then there's the one about the fact that you two are getting all hot and bothered in your bed—"

"That just embellished to the point of ridiculousness."

"And then there's the one where he fucked you on the kitchen counter—"

"Okay, that's a flat-out lie."

"I thought that last one was probably false," Rachel allowed.

"Is that last one a very, er, popular rumor?"

Rachel laughed in response.

Perenelle groaned. "People _suck_."

"Especially the godly people," Rachel agreed. "However, I am intrigued by the fact that you didn't completely deny the first two," Rachel said slowly. "Which means...they must be somewhat true."

Perenelle blushed slightly, but shrugged. "There are very simple explanations."

"Go on," Rachel said, smiling.

"We were practicing on eliminating my power on the roof, and the gods must have blown it all out of proportion," she said easily, ignoring her vivid memory of what had actually happened. "He barely touched me." She lied again.

"Okay, then what about the bed thing?"

"Nico was being a whiny asshole and complaining about the couch and stuff, so we made a deal, and now we share my bed."

Rachel choked on her beer.

"_What_?" she demanded, spluttering.

"We don't _do _anything!" Perenelle protested, feeling a shiver go up her spine when she remembered her dream from just the night before.

"I beg to fucking differ!" Rachel said, wiping her mouth again.

"We don't! We seriously just share the bed," Perenelle said, blushing harder now. "We used to have a goddamn pillow wall, for fuck's sake."

"A pillow wall?" Rachel repeated, clearly amused.

Perenelle shrugged.

"But you actually _are _sharing a bed?" Rachel asked.

Perenelle shrugged again. "Yeah, but sometimes we're both out really early or late or whatever and one of us gets it to ourselves."

Rachel began shaking her head slowly, eyes closed, as if she had just heard a very dreadful piece of news.

"What?" Perenelle asked, startled.

"You're sharing a bed, and you're _not_ doing anything?" she repeated.

"Yeah?"

"Why in all Hades _not_?" Rachel demanded, slapping her hands down onto her thighs for effect.

"Huh?" Perenelle said, getting it, but preferring her perpetual state of denial.

"You know _exactly _what I'm talking about," Rachel said, shaking her head some more. "You are _sharing a bed_ and you're not doing anything. _Why_? What are you two aiming for here, a nineteen-fifty's marriage?"

"Look, even if I wanted to doanything with Nico—which I don't—what makes you so sure he'd want to do anything with me?" Perenelle said.

Rachel snorted. "That, Perenelle dear, is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard."

"In what way, exactly?" Perenelle said, as amused by this conversation as she was uncomfortable by it.

"Um, let me see, there's two hot twenty-somethings is one bed together, both of the opposite sex and, presumably, straight. Explain to me how there is no intercourse, please. Could you do me that favor, perhaps?"

"I'm nineteen," Perenelle offered. She and Rachel looked at each other for a few moments in absolute silence. Rachel began laughing first, and Perenelle quickly followed suit.

"Really, though," Rachel managed between laughs, "it doesn't make any sense."

"Why _not _though?" Perenelle said, grasping for any of the sheds of denial and dignity she had left.

"Because Nico is, let's face it, not the worst looking son of Hades there's ever been, and you're—" Rachel extended her arms, gesturing towards Perenelle wildly, "—well, just look at you! You're totally gorgeous! You've got that whole big-blue-eyes thing going on." Rachel nodded.

"Big-blue-eyes thing?" Perenelle repeated, smiling.

"Yep," Rachel confirmed.

"Well then, who on_ earth _wouldn't want to fuck me, with my big blue eyes and all," Perenelle said, rolling said eyes.

Rachel laughed. "I'll let it go for now, but really, it simply doesn't make any sense. Do you guys really hate each other or something? 'Cause if it's that, although I find it hard to believe, I could understand you two not fucking each other's brains out."

Perenelle shook her head. "No, I don't hate him. I mean, when he was first here he was annoying as all get-out,but I guess that was partly me and all. I kind of like him when he's not being all smug and awkward, I guess. I actually just took him to meet my mother yesterday."

"You took him to meet your _mother _and you're not fucking?" Rachel said, eyebrows scrunched together as if to prove how much she really couldn't fathom the concept.

Perenelle smiled. "My mom actually said the same thing."

Rachel laughed again at this, although she was still shaking her head. "So you like him, you admit he's attractive, there are rumors that shit's already going down, you're sharing a _bed_, and yet you're not fucking."

Perenelle shrugged. "Maybe hedoesn't like me."

Rachel scoffed. "He does, trust me. When he called me a month ago, you know, asking for me to help you guys out, he sounded so... _concerned_. Like, really, really worried. And on your behalf."

"That doesn't mean he _likes _me, Rachel," Perenelle said, although she was intrigued by this information.

"No, Perenelle, it was like he really cared. And you know how Nico is. He doesn't just care about people. And anyway, his job isn't to protect you from any outside forces. It's simply to get rid of your power, so he doesn't _have_ to worry. He could totally just finish doing what Apollo and Hades are making him do and leave you to your own devices."

They were silent for a moment, until Rachel said, "Wait a minute."

"Huh?" Perenelle said.

"Earlier, you said maybe it was that he didn't like you, like if you knew that he did you would..." Rachel's eyes suddenly got very wide, and she raised her head to look at Perenelle straight on. "Oh, my _gods_. You do! You totally have a crush on him!"

"No, I—"

"Oh, my gods, you do, you do, you do! You totally fucking do!" Rachel jumped up, standing now, practically shaking with excitement.

Perenelle was blushing furiously now, her cheeks so hot she was sure her hands would receive third degree burns if she touched them. "No, really, I—"

"Perenelle, don't worry, it totally makes sense!" Rachel had her hands on Perenelle's shoulders now, and she was smiling broadly, her green eyes sparkling. "If you didn't I'd be questioning your sanity."

"Rachel, it's nothing, it's not like anything's ever going to—"

"But why not? You like him, I'm sure he likes you, so _why not_?" Rachel looked genuinely gleeful at the prospect.

"Why would you care, anyway?" Perenelle said. Rachel looked hurt for a moment, and Perenelle said quickly, "I mean, I know you and Nico are friends, but I'm basically just some random girl with a weird power who's getting stalked by some sorceress with a grudge. And, now that I say it like that, I'll admit, it sounds interesting, but it's not the point, really, 'cause—" Perenelle took a deep breath, realizing she was babbling. "Why would you care about my...ugh, I'll say it: love life? That's what I mean."

"Well, firstly, you may just be a girl with a power who's being stalked by a sorceress that I only met a few hours ago, but you are an exceptionally _cool _girl with a power and a sorceress stalker." Perenelle smiled at this, which made Rachel smile in turn. "And I, as the eternal virgin, must live vicariously through other cool girls and their romantic prospects." Rachel waved a hand. "Just ask Annabeth Chase. I do it with her and Percy all the time, although they are getting bit gooey for my taste now that they're approaching the marrying age."

"Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson?" Perenelle repeated. "You're friends with them?"

"Yeah, since the first war. So's Nico."

"Oh. I was eight during the first war," Perenelle explained.

"Wow, you _are _young aren't you?" Rachel said.

"When I got to camp the second war had ended four years prior. I know all the stories and stuff, but..." Perenelle shrugged.

"Do you not have many demigod friends?" Rachel asked, sitting down again.

"I had a lot at camp, and I still talk to Chiron sometimes, but no one that I see outside of camp. I'm sure if you went there and asked everyone some people would know who I am, but no-one knows about my power, other than Chiron and the gods and stuff, so there's nothing particularly memorable about me."

"And you've been stuck with Nico only?" Rachel said, aghast.

Perenelle nodded.

"Dear _gods_," Rachel shook her head. "I'm going to have to introduce you to Percy and Annabeth."

Perenelle was, she had to admit, absolutely startled by this prospect. "Oh, I don't think—"

"Don't worry. You're _definitely _interesting enough." Rachel smiled. "But, back to more important issues: you have a crush on Nico!"

"I—" Perenelle began, only to be interrupted by the door swinging open, and Nico appearing in the threshold. Perenelle swallowed, and looked over to Rachel, who now had a hand over her mouth.

"Hi," Nico said, looking questioningly between Rachel and Perenelle.

"Hey, Nico," Rachel said easily. Perenelle simply nodded, and said, "I see you decided to use the actual point of entry this time."

"I'm all for variety," Nico said.

"We ordered Chinese and saved some for you," Rachel said. She glanced over at the cartons of food, frowned, and said, "Well, we've left half of the carton of brown rice for you."

"Words cannot do justice for the excitement I feel in this moment," Nico said drily, dropping his keys on the small table by the door and walking towards them slowly, taking in the scene in front of him. "I see Rachel's been shoving her creepy art down your throat," he went on.

Rachel scoffed, hands on her hips, and said, quite indignantly, "I beg your _pardon_?"

Perenelle gained the same expression as Rachel, and said, "_I _think it's beautiful."

"That's because it is," Rachel agreed.

"Whatever you say," Nico said, leaning over the couch and between the two of them to grab the half-eaten carton of rice off the table.

"So," he continued, carton in one hand and chopsticks in the other, "have you guys talked at all about the sorceress lady and the prophecy death threats?"

"Uh," Perenelle and Rachel said in unison, looking up at him.

"Thought so," Nico said, rolling his eyes. "Good thing I have a plan."

"A plan?" Perenelle and Rachel repeated.

"Gods, you're starting to _sound _like each other," Nico said. "I knew it was a bad idea, getting you two together..." Nico shuddered.

"The plan?" Perenelle prompted.

"I think we should go back to the warehouse," Nico said in a very matter of fact tone.

"_What_?" Rachel said. "You want Perenelle to go back to the place where she was almost kidnapped and, presumably, killed?"

"He has a point, actually," Perenelle said. Rachel and Nico looked at her questionably.

"How?" Rachel said.

"There's no way we're going to find anything out by just sitting around here and waiting," Perenelle said, a bit unpleasantly, as though she didn't like the idea at all, but still found it to be the wisest plan of action. "And unfortunately, this means going back to the last place I saw her, and where, according to the Muses, is her home base." Perenelle looked at Rachel then, to find that her eyes were worried. "You're not sensing anything here, are you?"

Rachel shook her head. "No. I mean, there's you guys, but that's it."

"What do you mean, there's us?" Nico asked.

"You know, you guys, like, glow," Rachel explained. "'Cause you have the taint of that world on you. You're special."

Perenelle and Nico looked at each other, and Nico said, "Your mother could see it too."

"I think anyone with the Sight can See it," Perenelle said. "That's kind of the point."

Rachel nodded at this. "So, if there was anything else here that was in anyway associated with the gods, I'd notice it. It'd glow, like you guys."

"Okay, so if you go with us to the warehouse, you can help us keep a lookout, know if it's safe to get closer and all that, right?" Nico said.

"Oh, definitely," Rachel said, smiling. "Not that I approve. I really don't get what it is with you demigods and throwing yourselves into life threatening situations, but since I see neither of you will be moved on the topic, I'll help."

"When are we doing this, then?" Perenelle said.

"Well, we're going to need to prepare a little bit," Nico said, still eating from the carton of rice. "We'll need a car, which I know none of us have, so..."

"We could rent one," Rachel offered. "I'll cover the charges."

"No, don't worry about that. I've got it under control," Perenelle said.

"You've got it under control?" Nico repeated.

"Yeah. Really, Nico, I can just borrow Karey's car. I do that all the time," Perenelle said assuredly.

"Whatever you say," Nico murmured.

"So when can you get the car?" Rachel asked.

"By tomorrow," Perenelle said easily.

"Okay, well, I'm free tomorrow night," Rachel said, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

"So tomorrow night, then?" Nico said, almost nonchalant.

"Sounds fine to me," Perenelle said.

"Well then," Rachel said, smiling at Perenelle. "I guess I should leave now, so I can prepare myself for what shall be yet another self-destructive mission constructed by demigods of questionable sanity." She turned towards Perenelle again as she stood, and said, "It was great meeting you, though. You should come over some time so we can talk about things that don't involve the Soap Opera that is your family."

Perenelle laughed shortly, but her smile was genuine when she said, "That sounds great. We can talk about your family then. Nico says they're even worse than the Olympians."

"Nico likes to be melodramatic," Rachel said, punching said boy in the arm as she passed him, making her way to the door. "See you later, Ghost King."

"Bye, Red," Nico threw over his shoulder as she opened the rusty door with one strong pull, threw one last conspiratorial smile at Perenelle, and closed the door firmly behind her.

**-o-**

"Nico," Rachel said, voice muffled through the phone, although something else seemed to be contributing to the stuffiness Nico detected in her voice. "I need you to come to my apartment now. Oh, and bring my painting! I left it there last night."

"Yeah, we noticed," Nico said into the phone, glancing at the painting of the black raven that was still in the corner of the living room. It's presence seemed to only fuel Perenelle's air of awkwardness, which seemed to have started only just the morning before, for reasons unbeknownst to himself. "Why can't you just come pick it up?"

"Uh, for several reasons actually," Rachel drawled. She made the distinctive sound of breath being drawn in, followed by a gigantic sneeze. _Gods, not this again._

"I'll be there in a second," Nico said reluctantly, hanging up the phone and tossing it onto the couch.

Within seconds he had the painting in hand, was in the darkest corner of Perenelle's living room, and then he was gone.

**-o-**

"Your doorman thinks I'm so sweet I make sugar taste just like salt," Perenelle informed Karey as she walked through the intricate mahogany doorway and into her penthouse apartment.

"You are the only visitor who's nice to him," Karey admitted. "Everyone else thinks they're the shit just 'cause they have a friend with enough money to live in this monstrosity of a building."

Perenelle laughed, setting her bag down on Karey's leather couch. She loved going to Karey's apartment—it gave her a taste of upscale Manhattan that she only ever got when visiting her rich friends (a lot of them were, indeed, rich, via their parents—Karey herself came from old money that had been spent well and invested smartly over the years, causing her family to never go bankrupt, even in the middle of a recession, and allowing Karey to live in a penthouse apartment on Central Park West). Everything was perfect in Karey's building, from the gold door elevator to the woodwork and marble hallways. Karey herself only worked at the Strand along with Perenelle and Angelica (who came from much humbler beginnings) because she loved books and enjoyed attempting to not feel like a "spoiled rich girl" by doing such things (which was the reason she received no salary there—she simply volunteered).

"So, what's up, Perry?" Karey asked, following Perenelle into the living room and sitting down on the couch next to her.

"Well," Perenelle began cautiously. "I was wondering if you could do me a little favor?"

Karey raised an eyebrow.

"Um, you see," Perenelle began, "remember that awful rave you convinced me to go to about a month ago?"

"You mean the one that you brought your _cousin _to and then the cops showed up and kicked everyone out and arrested the guy who was only wearing a sock on his dick?" Karey rolled her eyes. "How could I forget?"

"There was a guy only wearing a sock on his dick?" Perenelle asked.

"Totes, bro," Karey said in her very Karey-like manner, and proceeded to flip her straight brown hair over her shoulder.

"Well then," Perenelle said. "Well, in the, uh, hustle of everything I must have dropped my bag, because Nico and I have looked _everywhere _for it, and I lost it around that time, so it makes sense that it'd still be there. Especially considering the fact that the cops are keeping everyone out of there, so there's a good chance that my bag's just lying there on that nasty beach." Perenelle nodded, ending her half-baked lie smoothly.

"Okay," Karey said, her expression doubtful, but she allowed the story. "What does this have to do with me? Do you want me to give you money so you can buy a new bag, because you wouldn't have been at the party in the first place if it weren't for me? 'Cause I can do that."

"No, no," Perenelle said. "I want to go back and get it."

If there was one thing Perenelle really loved about Karey, it was that she didn't question things too often. Sure, she'd called bullshit on the cousin story, but she didn't beat it to death until Perenelle gave in and told her the truth—much like Perenelle herself would have should their roles be reversed. Perenelle knew Karey probably didn't fully buy her admittedly poor lie, but she didn't push it, because in the end she and Perenelle were friends, and when your friend needs help, that's what you give them. "So you want to borrow my car," Karey said easily.

"Yeah." Perenelle smiled.

Karey shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"_Thank _you, Karey!" Perenelle enthused, smiling broadly. "Unfortunately, however, Nico is expecting me to show up with it soon, so..."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Karey said, standing and grabbing her keys off the table. Perenelle stood as well, and caught the keys deftly when Karey tossed them to her.

"So, your cousin's going with you?" Karey said, rolling her eyes at the familial word.

Perenelle ignored her, saying, "Yeah. He's gonna help me... _observe _the grounds."

Karey rolled her eyes. "What you _should _be observingis the ceiling of your bedroom while he fucks you senseless," Karey said matter of factly.

"Dear Lord," Perenelle said, shaking her head slowly. "He's my _cousin_."

"It's true," Karey insisted. "And I shall forever call bullshit on that cousin crap. You can't lie to me, Perry!"

"I beg to differ," Perenelle said, walking towards the door and away from Karey, dangling the keys in the air as she went. "Thanks for the car, Care Bear. I'll make sure to bring it back tonight—although it might be really late."

"Good, 'cause I have news," Karey said, arms crossed.

"News?" Perenelle said, intrigued. Karey only ever said there was news for two reasons: one, Brad Pitt was in town again, filming some movie, or two, something absolutely _mind blowing _had recently occurred in her life. Karey never used the word 'news' for mundane matters. Or even actual news, for that matter.

"Totes," Karey agreed.

"Well, now you have to tell me," Perenelle said, leaning against the door.

"Why should I, Perry dear?" Karey said, walking slowly towards Perenelle, hands folded behind her back, a mischievous smile on her face. "What'll you do for me?"

Perenelle huffed, knowing that Karey already knew exactly what she wanted. And if she didn't give it to her, she would literally never find out what this news was. Karey was ruthless, she was. "What do you want, you conniving vixen you?"

"Admit Nico's not your cousin," Karey said quickly, smiling manically.

Perenelle bit her lip, stubbornness and curiosity currently having a battle of the wills inside her head. Finally, she said, "Fuck! Fine, he's not my cousin! Happy? Now _what is the news_?"

Karey broke into her biggest smile, and then Perenelle's confession didn't matter; her news was way more exciting and out of left field than Perenelle's obvious lie. Giving a flourish of her hand, Karey all but shrieked, "Mark asked me to marry him!"

"_What_?" Perenelle shouted in like, running forward and grabbing Karey's left hand, not believing she'd missed this _rock _before. Perenelle, not knowing much about jewelery, but knowing this must have been expensive as hell_, _idly thought it was probably a zillion karats. "Holy shit! You're gonna get back problems from this thing!"

"I know, right!" Karey said, seemingly laughing and crying and trying to keep herself together all at the same time. "He just asked last night!"

"Karey!" Perenelle said in disbelief. "You're—_you—_are getting married?"

"I know, I know, but really, Perry, I'm really, really, super duper with cherries on top happy!" Karey said. They were having a contest on who could squeal louder at this point.

"Well, when you put it like _that_," Perenelle said, laughing. "I just can't believe it! It's _you_! Do your parents know?"

Karey became a bit more composed at this, her face darkening slightly, and she said, "No, not yet."

Karey's parents, being very traditionally Jewish, allowed Karey's escapades of dating whoever she wanted with grudging silence, but would definitelynot be happy to find that she was planning on actually tying the sacred knot witha Catholic boy. The same went for Mark's parents, who wouldn't be too gung-ho to hear that their son was marrying out of the religion as well. It made for a bit of a Romeo and Juliet dynamic, as Perenelle had once joked, just way more realistic. There would have to be a _lot _of convincing to do at best, and disowning at worst.

Perenelle smiled, and said, "I'm sure it will be fine," hoping herself that it was true. She gave Karey a hug then, saying, "Will Mark be here when I get back?"

She felt Karey nod against her shoulder, and smiled. She loved Mark, she had since they met in the second grade, and had always felt he and Karey would make a great couple. She was, in fact, the only reason they met in the first place, but this proposal exceeded any expectations Perenelle had for their relationship by far.

"Good luck with your bag," Karey said in a rye manner, as Perenelle opened the door, walking the short distance across the hall to the golden elevator. "And," she said, as Perenelle stepped into the elevator, "I hope you and Nico put my car to good use."

**-o-**

"So, remember to tell Perenelle everything I told you," Rachel sniffled, sneezing into a tissue again. "I really like her, you know."

"Yeah, you've only said that six times since I got here." Nico said, walking to the door or Rachel's penthouse apartment.

"I just can't believe you didn't tell me how _cool _she is," Rachel said, following Nico to the door. "I mean, she knows that Banana Fish is a short story by J.D. Salinger. What nineteen year-old-girl in the universe other than her knows that?" Rachel demanded. "Gods, you made me sounds like helping her out was going to be a chore."

Nico shrugged. "I don't know. She's been acting a little weird around me since yesterday," Nico confided.

"Well, you are kind of a creepy," Rachel said, with another sneeze. "Just make sure to tell her I'm sorry I can't come, and I didn't mean to get sick. This isn't like when I sit on the balcony wearing a tank top and shorts in the middle of winter so I can avoid going to one of my dad's parties. This is legit." She gave another sneeze, as if to drive the point home.

"I know, I know," Nico said. "Feel better, I guess."

"Thanks," she sniffed. She really did look horrible, too. Her hair was even more bedraggled than usual, her nose Rudolph red, her cheeks flushed unattractively. "Good luck!" she called after him as he boarded the elevator. "And be careful! This is dangerous shit, Nico!"

**-o-**

"She's getting _married_?" Nico said from the passenger seat of the girl on topic's car. "Like, matrimony?"

"What other married is there?" Perenelle rolled her eyes, putting her foot up next to the steering wheel.

Nico shrugged. "She just doesn't seem the...type."

"You have no idea," Perenelle said with a laugh.

Perenelle and Nico had pulled up to the beach (if you could call it that) on the shores of the Hudson, which was also covered in beer bottles, candy wrappers, and used condoms. The warehouses that lined it were mainly used for storage purposes, and sometimes in the summer and outdoor pool would be opened around there, but at the moment it was absolutely deserted, save for Nico and Perenelle sitting in Karey's car.

They watched the warehouses, particularly the one where Perenelle had been attacked by the woman in the white dress, looking for any signs of movement, and waiting until they were positively sure they could get closer, and then themselves go in and take a look. Luckily no cops had been patrolling, trying to keep out reckless teenagers and colleges students, so at the moment they were in the clear.

"It's kind of ridiculous, really," Perenelle went on, leaning her head on her hand, her dark blond hair tumbling about her in its usual mess of waves. She was dressed in converse sneakers, a pair of tight jeans, and a form-fitting green t-shirt. "I mean, to get married at twenty-one. She only just got the right to get drunk legally."

Nico shrugged, glancing over at her cautiously. She really had been acting odd ever since a couple of days back—the day he'd met her mother. And, as much as he hated to admit it due to all of Perenelle's annoying qualities, he'd enjoyed how they'd been getting on in the past month. What with their movie watching, and the addition of Ginger (the oddly protective cat that had literally come out of nowhere a month ago at this same spot, which they enjoyed theorizing about—the most recent theory being that the cat was in fact a spy from Soviet Russia who had managed to turn herself into a feline, impressively enough), and the fact that they were sharing the bed without the same timid awkwardness they had before.

They'd been in something together, and that was a nice feeling for Nico, who always felt like the odd one out, the third wheel, the sidekick. He and Perenelle were a team against whoever it was that was after her, and in the mission to eliminate her power.

And then the day before, she was suddenly...different. Like something had happened that had changed her view of him. And, Nico being Nico, would never _ask _her what happened. Because he hated sharing feelings just as much as Perenelle, it appeared.

"Maybe they really like each other," Nico suggested lamely, keeping his eyes on the warehouses.

"Nico, they totally like each other," Perenelle said. "They _love _each other. But sometimes that isn't enough, you know? Especially at such a young age."

"So, you never had much faith in any of your relationships?" Nico said.

"Nope," Perenelle said, shaking her head.

Nico smiled slightly, both at her matter of fact tone and the fact that she was slowly letting her guard down. Also, she was rather opinionated for a nineteen-year old. "Yeah, me either, I guess."

"Oh, so you _have _had a relationship beyond fucking?" Perenelle said, although there isn't much bite in the jab, and the look of mock astonishment she gave him wasn't as impressive as it could have been.

"No. That's why I agreed with you," he said. "Obviously."

Perenelle shook her head, looking out her window, but he could tell she was smiling. "I've had relationships, but not ones that I thought were going to last."

"Really, then," Nico said, sitting up much as she had before, and earning a grin. "Tell me more." His voice was mocking, but Perenelle didn't appear to look too offended.

"You want to know all about my boyfriends?" Perenelle said, turning around in her seat to face him.

The fact of the matter was that he really, really did. He didn't know why exactly, but he found himself intensely curious about Perenelle's romantic entanglements. If only, perhaps, to compare himself to them. See if there were similarities. See if she had a type. Or just see how someone as insistently annoying as herself could manage to carry on a romantic relationship for any extended period of time.

So he said, "If you want to tell me."

So Perenelle said, "Well, it ought to be a good way to pass the time. Anyway, the list isn't long."

Nico exhaled, only to realize he'd been holding his breath. Perenelle didn't seem to notice.

"Well," Perenelle began, assuming the voice that Nico now associated with her telling a story. "When I was fifteen, I dated this exchange student from Brazil." She smiled broadly.

"An exchange student from Brazil was your first boyfriend," Nico repeated, turning towards her.

"Mm-hm," Perenelle said, smiling as if recalling a fond memory. "We couldn't understand a _thing _the other was saying. We dated for eight months."

"You dated a boy who you couldn't understand for eight months?" Nico said. "Why?"

"He was _very _hot," Perenelle said with a sly smile. "And it's fun to listen to people ramble on in Portuguese, even when you have no idea what they're saying. It's a pretty language."

Nico nodded slowly, absorbing this new bit of information, glad that Perenelle's guard was coming down. "After him?"

"Well, I took a break from the whole dating thing while I was sixteen, because really, _what _is more cliché than having a boyfriend when you're sixteen?

"Then, when I was seventeen this Native American guy, Stephen, moved from this reservation in way upstate New York to Manhattan, by himself, so he could attend a good high school. And it's a good thing he did too, because, I shall admit, he was smarter than me."

"He was smarter than you?" Nico clucked his tongue. "Unbelievable."

"It's still hard to admit, but yes," Perenelle said, sticking her tongue out at him. "He was awesome too. Just fun in that way that we were never bored, you know?"

Nico did not know this feeling, personally, and her description of it actually made him a little jealous.

"So what happened?" he asked, his voice soft.

"He got a partial scholarship to Stanford, and I got a quarter scholarship to Columbia," Perenelle said, a bit solemnly. "Life went on."

"So you were eighteen when that ended?" Nico said, receiving a nod. "And you're nineteen now?" Another nod, and an eye roll. "Anything in between?"

"I told you the list was short," Perenelle said. "Anyway, I'm guessing it's longer than yours."

There was a long silence then, not entirely uncomfortable, but observed by both of them. Perenelle stared out the window for a while, and Nico did the same, although he was actually doing what they were supposed to be doing—looking at the warehouse, seeing if there were any signs of movement. Perenelle looked out at the river, seemingly deep in thought.

She turned back towards him suddenly, and Nico was startled to see that she looked irritated. "What are we even watchingfor?" she demanded. "Why are we even here if Rachel can't help us? She's the only one that'd see anything important. What, do we really think this lady is stupid enough to go turning all the fucking lights on?" She finished her tirade by slapping a hand down on the steering wheel.

"Perenelle," Nico said hesitantly, although she didn't look back at him. "You know I can kind of see auras too, right? I can see life forces—especially if they are fluxuating in some way. And since we think this woman's supposed to be dead..."

"You'd be able to see that," Perenelle finished, resting her head on her hands, closing her eyes. "Yeah—no, that makes sense. I'm...sorry."

Nico blinked. "You're sorry?"

Perenelle smiled slightly, and said, "Fuck off, di Angelo."

Nico smiled back, and as if Perenelle could sense this she opened her eyes to see the rare sight. Her eyes danced with an unreadable emotion for a moment, and she said, "We're doing pretty good just sitting here, aren't we? With the ADHD and all."

Nico's smile lingered a moment longer than it would have originally at this comment. Nodding, he said, "I never had as much of a problem with it as Annabeth and Percy. You're worse than me, but better than them." Perenelle saluted in response.

Nico began fidgeting a bi thent, thinking idly that demigod ADHD actually increased when you thought about it, and opened the glove compartment in the process. The sight that met him was far down his list of things he'd expected to find in Karey's glove department.

Maps, maybe. Sunglasses, perhaps. But a gun? No.

"Holy shit," he said lowly.

"What?" Perenelle said, turning towards him again. "Oh, shit!"

Nico had taken the gun out of the glove department and was handling it carefully with his long fingers, turning it slowly, checking the ammunition. It was loaded, and his knowledge of that suddenly made it feel much heavier in his hand.

"Your friend owns a gun," Nico said flatly.

"No shit," Perenelle said, leaning in hesitantly to get a closer look at the gun in the darkness, the only light coming from Brooklyn behind them, and Manhattan across the river. "I cannot _believe _she didn't tell me about this."

"Why would she tell you?" Nico said softly, continuing to turn the pistol in his hand.

Perenelle rolled her eyes. "Karey tells everyone _everything_. This might not be hers."

"It's in her car."

"And I repeat, no shit." Perenelle marvelled some more.

"I think this ups the danger factor of tonight," Nico said.

"Awesome," Perenelle breathed.

Nico smiled. Perenelle had come to distinguish Nico's smiles from each other. There was the genuine, oddly sweet one, and then the one that was accompanied by a mad glint in his eye. In an odd way, the latter thrilled her. This smile was the latter.

**-o-**

"Gods," Perenelle said, passing the gun from hand to hand. "Do you think there's a chance we could _die _tonight?"

"It's always possible," Nico said with a blasé shrug. "But somehow I doubt it."

"Why?" Perenelle said, sniffing the gun.

"Just a feeling."

The general mood in the silver car had changed drastically in the last half hour. Perenelle sat sideways in her seat, her feet up on the dashboard. Nico was turned toward her in much the same fashion, casually looking out the windshield.

"Even so," Perenelle said, "we should say thoughtful things about each other, just in case."

Nico nodded slowly, while Perenelle set the gun down in her lap gently, saying, "You first."

"You're one of the most observant people I've ever met," Nico began.

Perenelle smiled.

"You'd be horrifyingly annoying if your weren't so amusing," he went on.

"Touché," Perenelle said.

"Your turn," Nico said, dropping his head back against the seat, already feeling a tad uncomfortable by this exchange.

Perenelle thought for a moment. "I wanna get out of the car."

"Not really sure how that's something thoughtful about myself, but okay."

"No, really, I'm getting really restless." She looked at him with wide eyes. "Demigod ADHD can only be concealed for so long."

"I don't kn—"

Nico's sentence was cut off by the all-too-familiar sound of a police siren, and the flash of red and blue lights that went through the car. Perenelle jolted, her feet coming off the dashboard quickly, grabbing the gun and turning in her seat so that she was sitting in it backwards. She looked through the small gap in the headrest to the cop car that was approaching from behind them. Nico did the same, ducking his head around the seat , trying to stay low.

"_Shit_," they hissed in unison.

"Fuck," Perenelle felt the need to add. "I knew this would happen. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. What're we gonna do, Nico? We have a fucking _gun_."

Nico's eyes darted from the cop car, to Perenelle, to the gun, to the warehouse, and back again. Perenelle's blue eyes were wide and worried, the sirens making her face blue and red. She held the gun up in her hand, as if she were ready to open fire. Nico's mind raced, and finally he came to a decision.

Just as he saw the driver's side door to the cop car open, he snatched the gun out of Perenelle's hand, tossed it onto the floor of the back seat, covering it with some stray magazines that were laying back there. Then, in a quick movement, he entertwined one hand with Perenelle's, put the other one on her waist, and pulled her on top of him.

**-o-**

Perenelle gasped slightly when Nico pulled her onto his lap. She had to put her legs on either side of his, straddling him, in order to retain her balance. He kept one hand on her waist, and moved the other into her hair. Perenelle's tongue tingled with surprise and something else. Then, as he pulled her head towards his, he breathed, "Just go with it," to which Perenelle nodded breathlessly, understanding perfectly.

Their lips slammed together, and at first the kiss was horrible. Their teeth bashed and their holds were too tight on each other. And yet—although Perenelle wasn't sure if Nico thought the same—it felt right in a way she couldn't explain. Perenelle brought her hands to Nico's head, tangling them in his hair as well, pushing their lips even harder together still. The kiss deepened and matured, becoming exceptionallybetter, and Perenelle moaned slightly when Nico squeezed her waist, too caught up in the act to even be embarassed.

She leaned further into him, Nico not seeming to mind, not thinking about the fact that she could really use some air, or that the cop was approacing, or that Nico seemed to be enjoying this as much as she was, considering the state of his lap—

Two polite knocks from the driver's side window made them break the kiss with a smackand a sharp intake of breath. The police officer stood outside, leaning down to look inside the glass, an annoyed and slightly amused expression on his face. Perenelle's hands were still tangled in Nico's hair, and his in hers. Perenelle let go of him, kept her legs on his lap, moving sideways across the driver's seat to roll down the window, keeping a flustered expression on her face.

"Hi," Perenelle and Nico said in a sloppy unison, obviously looking quite the part of a young couple who had taken their car somewhere desolate to be intimate, with their mussed hair, wet lips, flushed cheeks, and silly smiles.

"You do know that civilians aren't allowed down here," the cop said, looking like this was a waste of his time. "At all."

"Yes, yes, we know, we're very, _very_, sorry, we were trying to get to—" And that's how it went. Perenelle and Nico barraded the officer of law with a wall of sound, confusing and making him grow weary, their words undetectable from each other, Nico running a hand down Perenelle's leg, and Perenelle leaning back to slap him playfully. The cop obviously wanted to be anywhere else.

"Okay, okay," the cop interrupted, irritable. "I'm going to be making the rounds. I'll pass by here again in about thirty minutes—if you two are still here, there'll be trouble."

Perenelle and Nico smiled and continued with their blabbering, and the cop waved them off, retreating back to his car, shaking his head all the way. He drove off, and Perenelle and Nico exhaled. Then, they both seemed to realize that Perenelle's legs were still in Nico's lap, her shirt riding up to the point where she was sure Nico could see her belly button. She scampered off him, opening the driver's side door, and half-falling out of the car.

Nico followed suit, facing her from the other side of the automobile, looking at her over the top of the car. Perenelle ran a hand across her face, seemingly troubled, and said, "That was an...unorthodox plan of action."

Nico shrugged nonchalantly. "Effective though," he said.

Perenelle looked at him then—really looked at him—and laughed shortly. It was a laugh without humor, as if she'd come to a revelation she wasn't too pleased with. "Gods, I get it now." She nodded.

"Get what?" Nico said, startled.

"Why girls put up with you," she said softly, looking at the warehouses.

Nico waited. The silence was filled with distant car horns, the sound of people's voices in the distance, crickets, the lapping of the waves against the dirty beach.

"You kiss well."

Nico started at this, a bit angry that Perenelle wouldn't look at him. She looked at the water again, her face unreadable.

"Better than your Brazilian exchange student?" Nico said, a nasty touch to his tone, if only to make her angry.

Perenelle looked at him then, finally, her eyes flashing with something—but it was gone so quickly he had no hope of deciphering it.

* * *

><p><strong>Yep, that just happened.<strong>

**Review! How'd you guys like the chapter? Questions? **


	8. Drown

**Author's Note:** I cannot even begin to say how sorry I am that this chapter took over a year to get up. You must believe me, though, dear readers; I feel absolutely awful about it. Truly. But you have no idea how much your continual reviews and messages have motivated me, and it's no one's fault but my own that this took so damn long. The silver lining, however, is that my procrastination on the front of writing this chapter gave me time to persuade the wonderful Proud to Be Plug to edit the first seven chapters, and he managed to patch up all grammatical errors, while I edited some small plot holes. So, if anyone wants a refresher by going back and reading earlier chapters, they're shinier than ever!

In other news, this fic is now Ghost Writers Approved! I know right!? How cool is that shit? I'd like to thank my mother and father for conceiving me, and then a doubly thanks to my mom for giving birth to me and for then sustaining my life and providing me with love and an education so I could learn how to read and write and stuff. Because, really, if none of that had happened, The Healer would not exist. But yes, I'm really flattered by the fact that this fic is found to be quality and entertaining and original, especially considering how horrifyingly wrong Nico/OC fics go most of the time. So, yes, thank you all, and enjoy this next instalment, in which plot–wait for it–moves forward!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or The Heroes of Olympus.

* * *

><p><em>And I don't mean to rain on anybody's cabriolet<br>One of those games you're gonna lose  
>But you wanna play it just in case<em>

- _Black Treacle_, Arctic Monkeys

**-o-**

"So," Perenelle said breathlessly, futilely attempting to keep her hair out of her face. "What's the game plan?"

"We have one?" Nico said.

Perenelle sighed heavily. "Why is there _never _a game plan? Plans are good. Plans are efficient. If demigods had plans more often, then maybe we wouldn't be in situations that provide us with stalker ladies who evidently want us dead."

"You know who'd like you?" Nico began.

"Everyone."

"My father."

"He already likes me, remember?" Perenelle rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," Nico said nonchalantly, because she was right: he did. And it was really, _really_ weird.

Nico and Perenelle were crouched outside of the warehouse's huge sliding door, which was cracked open slightly. Through that crack they were peeking, trying to make out something, anything, on the inside. After their successful attempt to gain more time (and avoid being arrested) by making the police officer who had arrived earlier think them to be no more than silly college students trying to get some in private, they decided they might as well try to do some surveillance on the warehouse while they could. They knew they only had half an hour, but Nico said that he saw no life-forces of any kind, so they figured they were in the clear to take a quick peek. The door to the warehouse would have to be pulled by the chains. which acted as doorknobs of sorts, if it were to be opened completely, which was a task Nico and Perenelle were not planning on attempting, as it was bound do be very difficult and, worse yet, noisy.

"Can you see anything with your Death Boy Night Vision?" Perenelle asked.

"Afraid not."

"So you can see people's life-forces, but you can't see in the dark." Perenelle gave a heaving sigh, which Nico found to be rather uncalled-for.

"Look, we can either go in and take our chances and find what we will, or we can save it for another day. Your choice; she's _your _stalker."

Perenelle sighed again. "I hate putting things off." She turned to him, and nodded once. "Let's do this," she finished, resolute and determined.

"Let's," Nico said drily, and Perenelle gave him a quick look of approval.

Perenelle went for the most obvious point of entry: the crack left in the door. It was practically an invitation, as Nico was sure it wasn't something their mystery woman had done accidentally, and he was pretty sure Perenelle realized this too, but it was the best choice. Shadow-traveling into unknown enemy territory wasn't the smartest plan, and there were no other points of entry, save the windows, which were scarce and made of heavy glass.

"Oh, my gods," Perenelle whispered as they entered the dark, cold warehouse. "It's so dark in here. I feel like I'm dead."

"That is the most unnecessary stream of commentary that I have ever heard anyone give during a covert operation," Nico said, shaking his head. "Ever."

"Look, I don't know what you expect us to do here," Perenelle hissed. "I was under the impression that you and cats had more in common than just an uncanny talent for lurking. This entire covert operation relies on being able to see what is going on in here, and we don't even have a flashlight."

"You're really bad at this," Nico decided. "Why didn't you bring a flashlight?"

Despite the fact that they could see nothing in the seemingly endless darkness, Perenelle's foot made a solid target against Nico's leg, causing him to stumble back against the wall of the warehouse. He managed to grab hold of Perenelle's arm, however, so they both _thumped _into the wall and slid to the ground.

Perenelle slapped Nico's arm - apparently for emphasis - once they had become stable again, leaning against the wall. "_You're _supposed to be helping me with all of this! I showed up at Camp Half-Blood afterall the shit went down. I don't have nearly as much experience with this covert operation bullshit as you do, and I was under the impression that you were trying to help me."

"I _am_," Nico said, his voice dripping with exaggeration.

"Well, then, think of something!" Perenelle hissed.

"I'm trying," Nico said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Perenelle and Nico jumped suddenly when a loud _clang _rang through the warehouse.

"_Shiiit_," Perenelle whispered. "Let's go towards that noise."

"_What_?"

"Got a better idea?"

"No," Nico admitted.

"Then let's go," Perenelle said, standing easily and grabbing Nico's arm, pulling him up.

They made their way through the dark warehouse, hands extended in front of them, staying close so as not to lose each other. As they made their way in the general direction of the noise, Nico suddenly lost his footing, falling downwards, only half-realizing that they must have come to stairs. Another part of his mind also noted that Perenelle's hands were still on his arm, clutching tighter now, which must have meant that she was sliding down the damp steps with him.

Finally, they slammed down onto solid ground. Perenelle groaned and rolled onto her side, and Nico muttered an apology, sitting up, touching his fingers lightly to the imprint Perenelle's hand had made on his arm.

"Wanna keep going?" Nico said quietly, gesturing to the even darker and colder expanse that laid before them, even though he knew Perenelle wouldn't be able to see him do so.

"Yeah, okay," Perenelle said, finding Nico's shoulder with her hand once again, and pulling herself up. Nico followed suit, and they continued walking through the darkness, not sure of what they would find, but figuring it was a little late to call the mission off.

"Sorry," Nico murmured again.

Perenelle didn't respond for a few long heartbeats, and Nico was about to repeat himself when she said, "It's not your fault."

The silence became not only eerie but awkward after that, and the room became colder and colder. When Perenelle's voice broke the silence, Nico almost jumped.

"Maybe we should just call this off for tonight," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I mean, we're not at all prepared, and the cop will be back soon anyway, and honestly this is just stupid overall."

Nico was about to agree with her (if only because of the unmistakable fear in her voice), when suddenly the floor gave out. Not like it had before, when Nico had simply lost his footing and they had half-fallen, half-slid down the steps. No, this time the floor quite literally ceased to exist, and they fell down, down, down, until suddenly they were drowning.

Like with the stairs, only a small part of Nico's mind that wasn't busy panicking realized that he was underwater. Only this time it was so much more of a shock, because it was _freezing _and he was choking on the dirty, dark water. There was no going up, because it was like the river had a ceiling, and every time he tried to break the surface, he hit that ceiling. Not only was he scared and cold and dying—he was angry. He clawed at the surface above him that was holding him under, but to no avail.

A hard pinch on his arm jolted him out of his panic, and it was only in that moment that he remembered Perenelle was still with him. He didn't dare try to open his eyes in the freezing water, but he knew it was her. He could feel her shaking him, and at first this made him panic more, and get angry at her, because what kind of way is that to treat someone when they're drowning? But then, thank the gods, the rational part of his brain, the part trying to override the panic and actually help him, noted that Perenelle was in the exact same situation he was. The more she shook him, too, the more it felt like she was trying to tell him something. It didn't feel erratic, it felt insistent, he was sure of it, even through the rough current and his brain's decreasing ability to function.

And suddenly, the rational part broke through, and he knew exactly what he had to do; he knew exactly what Perenelle was trying to say. He moved his arms sluggishly through the water, grasping around her waist, and she did the same to him. And then, he thought of anywhere but there.

The next thing he knew, his back collapsed onto solid ground; hard and painfully, but all he could be was happy. He felt a body roll off of him, and heard wheezing next to him, and a part of him thought, _that must be Perenelle_. He didn't dare open his eyes, but he began to smile, and the smile turned into a laugh, until he was coughing up water, too.

When he finally opened his eyes, he looked over to Perenelle. She was on all fours, still coughing, although it didn't sound nearly as violent as it did before. She glanced over at him, gave him a look he couldn't quite place, then rolled onto her back, jostling him slightly as the sides of their arms pressed against each other.

"Um," Perenelle began, hesitantly. She gave another weak cough before continuing. "Where are we?"

The sky was big and dark blue and full of stars, so that definitely eliminated New York, Nico thought. He knew they were lying on grass; clean, wild, dewy grass. He couldn't hear any sirens, or people talking far too loudly. So, no city Nico could think of.

When Nico had finally realized what he had to do as he and Perenelle had drowned, he had simply imagined a place that was the exact _opposite _of their situation in that moment. Calm, peaceful, with plenty of air. He had no time to think of specifics. And it seemed that he'd brought them to such a place. But it definitely was a problem if Nico had absolutely no idea where they were.

Glancing over at Perenelle again, he was startled by the look of desperation on her face. So, he sat up, surveying their surroundings, looking for an answer.

"Oh," Nico said, taking in the rolling green hills that seemed to go on forever. "I know exactly where we are."

"Good?" Perenelle said uneasily, looking around at their surroundings nervously.

"Scotland," Nico supplied. "It's my safe place."

Perenelle started. "Your safe place?" she repeated.

"Um," Nico said, realizing he'd divulged a very childish bit of himself. "Yeah. A lot of times when I've been in trouble or losing a fight or something and I'd shadow travel out without thinking about it, I've ended up here. When I was first practicing shadow traveling, I ended up her a lot, actually." Nico ran a hand over the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Oh." Perenelle looked around again. "Well… it's very pretty."

They sat in silence then for a few moments, the surreality of the rolling hills and their absolute isolation filling the silence easily. Suddenly Perenelle gasped, shooting into a standing position, running her hands through her hair, practically screaming, "The _car_!"

"The car," Nico repeated dumbly.

Perenelle gave him a look of disbelief, actually leaning forward as if to see if he was joking inopportunely. "Karey's _car_, Nico! Oh, my fucking gods, what we just did was so _stupid_."

"You mean me traveling us here?" Nico said quickly, getting defensive.

"_No_," Perenelle shot out, annoyed. "Going into the warehouse in the first place! It's all so _stupid_," she spat the word again, like it disgusted her. "This is exactly the problem with us!" Nico assumed Perenelle was referring to demigods as a whole once again. "Because we can't fucking sit still we make stupid, knee-jerk decisions like going into that fucking warehouse when a cop warned us that he was going to be back in fucking minutes! Who _does _that?" Perenelle said, apparently having already supplied herself with the answer to that question. She bent down so she was crouching, face in her hands. "This whole plan we've half-ass concocted is all so fucking stupid," she said through her fingers.

Nico was startled by Perenelle's angry speech, but he was able to say without wasting too much time, "I can bring us back." Perenelle looked up at him. "I mean, there's not exactly a limit on the traveling? At least, not all the time…" he trailed off. "It might be kind of difficult, because of how much strength I lost when we, uh, fell into the water." He let that hang in the air for a while, as it was the only thing Perenelle and Nico had yet to address that was truly a Big Deal. Perenelle just stared at him, her face unreadable. "I mean, is it really important?"

"Di Angelo, if the cops don't tow it first, somebody will steal it. It's a BMW," she said, still exasperated. "And there's a _gun_ in it," she added, shaking her head.

"Yeah," Nico said.

Perenelle puts her hands on her hips, closing her eyes and breathing through her nose, apparently not trying to fly completely off the handle. "Let's just go back," she finally said, straining to keep her voice calm.

Nico nodded, ignoring the fact that there could indeed be a great physical toll should he bring them back. But something about the look on Perenelle's face, a mixture of anger, exasperation, and hopelessness, made the most determined and resolute part of Nico's mind kick into gear. He suddenly felt an inexplicable and overriding need to fix this, to prove himself – an emotion he had only ever felt in relation to his immortal family and demigod relatives, he realized.

"Let's go," he said, stupidly.

**-o-**

The minute they popped back into existence on the dirty, warehouse covered beach, Perenelle screamed and Nico threw up.

"No, no, no, no, _no_!" Perenelle shrieked, head in her hands, turning in circles irrationally. The car was gone. The car, Karey's car – was gone. The car with the gun in it: gone. The hugely expensive car: gone. Karey's hugely expensive car with a gun in it was gone. Gone, gone, gone.

The minute after Perenelle popped out of her bout of self-pity and managed to shake away the awful feeling in her chest for a moment, she noticed Nico. He was on his hands and knees, coughing uncontrollably now, but she could see that he had already emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ground.

"Oh, my gods," Perenelle breathed, running her hands through her hair, dropping to her knees next to Nico. Instinct took over, the same part of her coming out that always had when her mother had had one too many and she was forced to take care of her for the night. Perenelle put a hand on the back of Nico's neck, stroking the spot, wiping off the hot sweat that had collected there. She moved on to do the same to his forehead, pushing his unkempt hair out of his face, rubbing his back gently with her other hand all the while. After a few moments of that, once she'd managed to calm him down significantly, she rolled him onto his side, making eye contact with him, although his eyes were half-lidded.

"Nico," Perenelle said, the car forgotten for now. "I need to get you home."

Later she would convince herself she'd imagined it, but in the moment she was sure he gave a broken sound on the word _home_.

"But," Nico croaked, "the…car."

"It doesn't matter right now," Perenelle lied, feeling the familiar sick surge of her stomach at the thought of the lost car. Looking at him, however, Perenelle felt a distinct sympathy for Nico then; the kind she'd always felt for her mother, despite how angry and tired she had always felt as well. Aside from that, though, was how… _broken_ Nico looked. Perenelle had been too caught up in her own ferocious worry about the car, her own self-loathing at how stupid she'd been, that she had ignored Nico's warning of how the second bout of shadow-traveling would affect him. But now the pallor of his skin, his shallow breathing, his barely coherent speech – it terrified her, and she felt the familiar tug in her gut, the urge to…to…

"Perenelle?" Nico's eyes lacked their usual sharpness, and that's when Perenelle knew exactly what she had to do.

Without saying anything, Perenelle rolled Nico onto his back, hands on his shoulders, knees digging into his ribcage as she knelt over him.

Hair falling into his face, Perenelle inclined her head towards him and asked, "Where does it hurt?"

**-o-**

Even through his exhaustion-addled mind, Nico realized what she was going to do. He struggled, but Perenelle had her hands pinned onto his shoulders, and she was surprisingly strong. Or maybe he was just weak right then. Maybe both.

"Perenelle, no," Nico tried to put a bite into his voice, but it lost all force due to the breathlessness he was still suffering.

"Nico, stop it," Perenelle said determinedly. Nico began to try to kick out his legs as well, but Perenelle quickly stopped this, straddling him and keeping his legs pinned down with hers.

Nico quickly realized there was no way he was winning this fight in his current state, and realized, with a sweep of anxiety, that his only weapon was his words.

"Perenelle." His voice still lacked a sharp tone, or really any tone at all that didn't involve heavy breathing. "We've worked too long at this, it'll be all of that down the drain if you let it – let it come back, and Apollo – and both of our fathers – you can't -"

Perenelle's hands were at the base of his throat then, though, lightly pressing into his skin, although the position reminded him of a chokehold.

The sensation that followed, however, was nothing like that of a chokehold.

**-o-**

Perenelle put all of her efforts into tapping onto that reservoir in her gut, that sensation that used to come so easily to her, but now felt as though a dam had been built around it. She bit her lip with the strain, focusing all of her thoughts onto her ability, recalling what it felt like to do it, how she would let it surge through her body like electricity, and then channel it into another life.

The dam broke suddenly, and Perenelle audibly gasped at the sensation. It was painful, truth be told. She felt as though she'd torn a muscle, but this muscle seemed to be rooted much more deeply within her. It had always hurt a little to heal, honestly – she'd been doing it constantly up until a month or so ago, and as Apollo had explained, every time she did it, she was giving away a portion of her own life-force. Part of her own _soul_, he had put it, looking rather pleased with his own wording. But this pain, this pain of breaking the boundaries she and Nico had worked on putting up, it was nothing like the stinging sensation she had felt all those times before, the achiness it would later lead to in her back and neck and wrists, the migraines it would cause. This was borderline unbearable, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from showing so.

Soon enough, though, the process began to feel… smooth. Smooth as it always had. Perenelle felt, amidst all the pain, a nostalgia over her power; she realized that she had actually missed its company ever since bidding it farewell for good. And, even more gratifying, was the feeling it gave her to see that her power was working just as well as ever, the evidence written in the more relaxed position of Nico's jaw, his muscles flexing and relaxing. She didn't expect to be so personally affected by the process; if anything she had thought it would come back to her easily and reflexively, like riding a bike.

What she did expect, from years of experience in people's reactions to her healing, was what happened next. Still, she hadn't exactly thought over how… _inconvenient _this reaction would be, given their current situation.

As Nico passed out, Perenelle rolled off of him, lying on her back beside him on the dirty beach, just as they had in Nico's "safe place".

"Shit," Perenelle muttered.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm back! Review?<strong>


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